


Amalgam

by psyluna



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Emotional Support, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranormal Investigators, Post-Season 2, Pre-OT3, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, established trevor/sypha, love triangle to ot3, parental loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-01-22 13:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 96,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyluna/pseuds/psyluna
Summary: “People are like seeds. They rise from the ground when you least expect it.”What does the road have to bring so that a new bond will flourish?Eight months after the death of Vlad Dracula Tepes, Trevor and Sypha return to meet the friend they left behind. Tired and impoverished, they had roamed by a recently rebuilt Wallachia taking job after job. Needing a third pair of hands, the couple comes across a castle in ruins and a changed Alucard behind his affable smile. Taking him to the world outside, however, is a whole new point to address.English version ofAmálgama.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades
Comments: 16
Kudos: 65





	1. Roundabout

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Amálgama](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303074) by [psyluna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyluna/pseuds/psyluna). 

> Hello, and welcome. This is the beginning of a hell of a ride of unmeasured distance. This English version is brought by yours truly. Feel free to point out any language mistakes or bits and pieces that didn't sound quite natural, also to comment on other aspects of the fic.
> 
> Please take note that this is a translation of the original, which is written in Brazilian Portuguese. The Portuguese release will be prioritized, and I intend to keep an update schedule of a new chapter in Portuguese every fifteen days. The English version must be up a week after a Portuguese chapter is published.

The castle was silent. Not the usual kind of quietness, but hushing on purpose. It was but a nuance, tangled in the entrance hall, the laboratory, the numerous bedrooms, the ballroom, the endless cellar and all the multitude of other rooms. It was a shrouded shade; however, it sat there. Sharp, even in his sleep, Alucard lightly turned himself in the casket, without opening his eyes. He heard no sound besides the water in the pipes and his own breath. He decided to get on his feet, drowsy and lethargic, and found himself feeling cold. He floated with grace to the floor and walked the first barefoot steps on the carpet.

Where did he leave the damn jacket? It was summer the last time he got up for a patrol, and he dismissed any excessive clothes when going back to sleep; as it should be fall already, it was cold enough to bother dressing up. He found it hanging on one of the hall’s hatstands, covered in dust and with several intruding clothes-moths, which he flicked and shaked out thoroughly. He put it on and looked around. There was plenty to repair there, a thing he could see even with the lights out.  _ Someday. _ He climbed up the stairs by his right, heading to a watchtower.

**~  
**

“So, here it is.”

Sypha raised her eyes to the monumental building, while brushing away her hair from the eyes. It was around sunset and the sunlight was not enough to make it any warmer. She caressed Trevor’s hand with the thumb. 

“It’s not like this bulky contraption will ever move again,” he shrugged, “And why is it, huh?”

“It wasn’t on purpose.”

He leaned to kiss the side of her head. They followed ahead by the pavement and Sypha ran her free hand by the railing. Under their feet, they could see a full ditch; before that, it may have looked the same more than ten years before.  _ I don’t doubt that it was just the rain _ , Trevor laughed to himself.

They traveled on foot from the grove’s first trees, where they left the horses with a stable boy. He could not be older than fifteen and crossed himself so many times along the way, enough to make Trevor lose track of them. He told the boy something along the lines of “doing some demon hunting around” to make him stop asking it there was  _ really  _ where they were headed. Sadly, the rare horse riding luxury left when he did. One horse for him and another for Sypha; an even bigger oddity. Besides shaking like a leaf, the boy thanked them over and over about a thousand times. He surely watched the night when they wiped out an inconvenient gargoyle with the usage of fire, holy water, whipping and whatever came in handy. The bounty weighed their shoulders, and would feed them for a week if eaten wisely.

“What if he isn’t home?,” she asked.

“His kind isn’t big on going for walks without a reason.”

Sypha frowned, “I really miss watching you guys argue…”

“Great, you’ll have it. And I miss a flea-free bed. Perhaps, today, could I-”

“No.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” he looked at her with hopeful eyes, and she replied only with a crabby stare, “Please.”

“Five glasses and that’s it for the night. You should stay sober just once in your life.”

“Meh,” Trevor straightened the bag straps.

“Don’t ‘meh’ at me. Otherwise, this single bottle of wine we’ve got will be over in five minutes.”

“There must be some more wine in there, come on,” he bargained.

“There must be some bottled  _ blood _ in there, you mean.”

“That, too. I’ll simply not drink it.”

They crossed the gates of stone. If the ruins could shrink a person’s size, the castle was even more overwhelming. The doors were closed as if they were dead, and, for a while, there was just the howling wind.

“Should we knock?,” Sypha inquired.

“I doubt he’ll listen, in a fleabag this size.”

And both halves of the door opened.

“I hear better than you think,” Alucard’s voice echoed to the entrance, coming from the back of the hallway. Torches would light up as he walked by them and cast his elongated shadow on the other two.  _ Well, at least he got rid of the corpses. _

“Long time no see,” he smiled and scratched his eye.

Sypha let go of Trevor’s hand to hug Alucard on the tip of her feet.  _ Hey, come back here. _ Not amused, Trevor just stared at him with disregard, and so did the host.

“It’s been months I was asleep, and I honestly thought that so I’d stay for a couple of seasons.”

“Sorry for waking you up from your beauty’s sleep, ma’am,” Trevor crossed his arms.

“But it’s important to hear from you on why you’re here,” Alucard spoke again, “Don’t tell me that-”

“No, it’s nothing serious, really.”

“Can you stop interrupting me, please? Let’s sit down and talk, far from this chilling breeze. I’ll show you the guests’ bedrooms and you’ll leave the luggage.”

“It’s food, most of it, actually,” Sypha lent him one of the packages, so that Alucard could see some fresh vegetables.

“So, we’re headed to the kitchen, after the bedrooms. It’s a safe choice to be around some fire.”

_ Who would tell I’d ever be a guest at this place. _ Trevor and Sypha held hands again, and the three walked side by side. After some corridors, she asked:

“If, according to the legend, you need to invite a vampire into your home so it can enter a human house, is the opposite valid?”

“It’d better be valid, don’t you think?,” Alucard giggled, “You can stay here. There’s a bunch of dust, but I’ll take care of it in a flash.”

He opened the door to reveal a cozy guests’ room, unused for long. There were a dressing table, a nightstand, a wardrobe, a chest, and a double bed, everything made of prime wood and of refined taste. Trevor noticed the bed’s innuendo and did not protest. They both left the few possessions in the chest; they consisted of a lighter change of clothes, a water flask, and utensils. In the midst of flying bedsheets, fabric, and a duster he did not notice at first, Trevor was fast enough to find the bottle of wine and position it well. After five minutes of telekinesis and four helping hands, Alucard stated the bedroom as livable and guided them to the kitchen. 

“Unless you guys wish to rest right now,” he finished putting a pillow in place, “I’m at your service.”

“I’m up for food,” Sypha raised her hand, “Can I take care of the fire?”

“Without a doubt.”

“First glass,” she interrupted Trevor’s suspicious bottle movements by pointing her finger.

“Give me a break,” he lowered the bottle after a good chug.

“We didn’t even eat yet. Give  _ me _ a break.”

“The castle has a winehouse. There’s no need to worry,” Alucard set down the duster.

“I told you. See?”

“Doesn’t matter. First glass,” Sypha turned her back on him and followed Alucard, ignoring the argument as well.

The kitchen took place deeper in the castle, after the ballroom and the dining hall; one should walk by a long, empty corridor to get to it. Sypha’s eyes sparkled as the torches lit up on their own, now that they were not down the catacombs of Gresit. Trevor invited her to snuggle under his arm, and he smiled to the other side.

“I advise we stay around the surface only. The underground keeps some… Not very pleasant kitchenware,”  _ Human-cooking kitchenware, you mean, _ but Trevor let Alucard go on, “The upper floor was built especially for my mother, and therefore, for me as well.”

“Don’t you eat when you wake up?,” Sypha asked.

“I don’t rely on much to survive.”

It also required some cleaning and organizing, but the kitchen soon returned to its former glory. Sypha stopped making food whenever she got marvelled by every object she came across, while Trevor would bone and chop whatever was in front of him, until his arms were sore. In a lapse of strength, the knife he held cut him on the tip of the index finger, and he cursed.

“What’s wrong?,” Alucard dumped a bunch of sliced mushrooms and approached him.

“Sharpen it, please,” Trevor lent him the dull knife and took his cut to his lips, “I hope you didn’t come here because you could sniff the blood.”

“No,” Alucard looked for the whetstone in a drawer, “Actually, yes.”

“I also hope you don’t want a taste of it.”

“No. This time, no, for sure.”

Sypha readily set the cooking pit on fire, one that could keep itself burning without wood or fuel of any sort; she let out an impressed sound.

“How does it work? Is it a sigil? A circuit? A spell?”

“I’m afraid I might have to check the manuals, sadly,” Alucard wiped off the sweat on his face, “Do we wait now?”

“This one looks pretty ready to me,” Trevor sprinkled a last pinch of fresh herbs on the soup caldron, “This headache I have won’t let me wait.”

Each one suited themselves of a modest bowl of soup with a side of bread and half a glass of wine, by the kitchen’s table. The food was warm for the hands, and the alcohol comforted the soul. By the end of the bowl, the meal would smell even better, including the big chunks of roast lamb.

“Is it ready this fast?,” Trevor picked his teeth.

“Science works wonders,” Alucard stood up to open the cooking pit, “Please, head before me to the dining hall. I’ll take the serving dishes.” 

The results of more than an hour of humdrum work bloomed on the table. Alucard came with porcelain, glasses, and silverware, floating them all gracefully, and landed them all on the walnut wood surface.

“Enjoy the meal,” he wished.

Even with countless distractions around, Sypha was sharp on counting Trevor’s glasses; by the fourth one, she announced the next one would be the last. While he thought about how to circumvent the scenario, the good food inebriated him almost as much as the wine. He also relied on Sypha’s rare excessful drinking, a thing she would do once in a blue moon.

“What have you been doing this…,” Alucard calculated, “Last year, I suppose?”

“Oh, a bunch of stuff,” Trevor scratched his head with the clean hand, “But, in summary, we’ve been dealing with the rest of the roaming, masterless night creatures. There’s a good amount of them, they’re hungry, and there are many prey.”

“I can’t say I didn’t expect it.”

“A gargoyle was the most recent one. Do you know the nearest village? Sohodol, it’s what it’s called,” Sypha poured all the glasses, “Last one, Trevor.”

“If I may be honest, I’ve never been there.”

“Maybe you should. Pretty fine beer,” Trevor had a plan, “On the thingy, well, it does what it does, it haunts the livestock, it trashes the farms, it vanishes with a villager or two. It made a nest in a stonewall and left at night for a snack. And what did we do?”

“We set the stonewall on fire,” Sypha smiled.

“The thing flew away and started to throw spikes at us. Spikes everywhere! If it wasn’t for the biggest of whirlwinds, I’d be a strainer right here and now.”

“My whirlwind.”

“Precisely.”

“We foresaw it would fly above the town, and I propelled myself there. We’d left the local priest on spot to bless the fountain on the square.”

“A first-class killjoy and whistleblower since we were kids, I remember it well,” Trevor drained the glass as if nothing was wrong, “But he did what he was told to do, at least.”

“I can figure out the rest,” Alucard listened to it all with a hand supporting his chin, “And, thanks to you, we dine well tonight. Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Trevor raised the empty glass.

“Are you toasting like that?,” Alucard asked.

“I was going to.” But Sypha stared at Trevor with disapproval.

“You didn’t even try from our winehouse. Will you pass it?”

“No.”

Sypha rolled her eyes and admitted defeat:

“Two more, then.”

Alucard poured them all another round. Even the wine’s color and texture were another world. Trevor glanced at it with surprise, the glass against the candlelight, and a sip was enough for a delighted face. Instead of finishing it at once, he took it slowly, amongst the fruit they had to finish.

“I insisted for a reason,” Alucard smiled.

**~**

Sypha opened her eyes. She could not feel her arm, and her head was dizzy. She got up carefully from the chair, upholding herself on the table, and only then she noticed the blanket’s weight on her shoulders. Despite the grogginess, she was awake, painless, and woke up from her best sleep in weeks of stables, barns, and the open air. The exception was the night after the gargoyle slaying, on a cheap tavern’s bed, too small for her and Trevor. She looked around, almost missing a silhouette before the stained glass. Alucard turned and smiled with a hint of irony, saying her a “good day”.

“What time is it?,” she yawned.

“About two in the morning,” he approached, and Sypha noticed his hair pinned up with an ornate hair stick.

She pushed the chair back to its place and could see how much of the untouched dinner was left. Alucard had a glass of wine, but was not eating.

“Trevor’s gone to the bedroom. He smuggled the bottle of wine with him. Tell him I told you, please.”

“It’s always this,” Sypha shrugged, “I mean, not always. But frequently.”

He closed his eyes, as if surrounded by peaceful joy, and opened them again after a deep sigh. He stretched to grab another glass; his was the only full one and there was no bottle to speak of.

“Would you like some?,” he offered the glass, “I haven’t touched it.”

Sypha opened her mouth to say yes, than no, but there was no time. Alucard pored half the wine in another glass left.  _ Well, better. _

“Do you intend to sleep now?,” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” she scratched her head.

“There’s a warmer living room, that doesn’t echo as much as here. You have my invitation.”

She followed him there to find a roomy meeting place. Three glass panels, shaped as half an octagon, showed an occasional crescent moon behind the clouds, and the torches revealed a world of entertainment. A full shelf suggested that an opposing pile of books was, once, in a similar furniture. A short table, surrounded by two armchairs, had an inlaying work of a chess board, with fancy pieces covered in dust and set on a check. A map of Wallachia was spread on a cartography table, and, on the table by the middle, stood a proportional model of the castle itself, made only by a meticulous light scheme that never went off.

“Whatever you want to see first,” Alucard pointed at the room with his hand.

“I might let you choose.”

“On to the spells, then.”

Still intoxicated, Sypha could not concentrate on the reading and skimmed through the volumes on elemental magic, saving them for later.

“Can I copy some?”

“No problem. But I’d suggest that you kept the most interesting ones.”

“No, it’s fine,” she stuttered, “I won’t take too long to write.”

“It takes no time at all. See this.”

Alucard got up and signed at her to come together. By the corner of the room, as he set his hand onto it, the cartography table lit up in purple lights. He removed the map and rolled it, leaving it in the drawer; he then positioned the open book by the left side. He checked briefly the last page and grabbed an empty volume, setting it on the other side. The pages started to flip on their own, one by one, as they printed the content on the new book. Sypha was mesmerized.

“Thanks a lot, really.”

“I know you’ll make good use of them,” he finished the glass.

While the tome copied itself, they spent some time with chess. None of both were exceptional, but they knew enough. Sypha recalled the days off the road, and the single, rustic board that went around the Speakers’ hands; she won lots of tournaments, earning symbolic prizes such as an extra apple, or the last roast duck leg. During the best of three, she had a glance of Alucard smiling for no reason.  _ He must have played it with his parents. _ Her heart sank.  _ I did, too. _

“Where did you learn that defense?,” he asked, after being defeated.

“An advanced level book, in a day I had nothing better to do,” Sypha scratched her head and put her eyes on the other table, “I think the copy is finished.”

“On to the next, then.”

Hours went by as minutes as they left the game aside and rummaged through the remaining books. They talked about all that came to mind, and Sypha not only enjoyed the library’s sample immensely, but observed Alucard as well. He had not  _ changed _ in the strict sense; not enough time had passed for that. However, there was something with him… She could not put her finger on it. The way he carried himself, as if he saw something that was not there. Sometimes, she called him, and he took a while to leave his own world and answer, without a hint of the watchful, focused stare he had before.  _ Maybe it’s just the moment. _ She yawned without covering her mouth, and her eyes were blurred.

“Sorry.”

“The road must have been exhausting,” Alucard closed a book, “Don’t tie yourself to staying here.”

“Aren’t you going to sleep as well?”

“Don’t you think I slept for a good while?,” he laughed, “Get some rest. There will be plenty of time tomorrow. I’ll take you to the bedroom.”

He left her by the beginning of the hallway. Sypha opened the door and tiptoed to the bed. She learned with time that Trevor would wake up, so she did not worry much about making noise, and worried more about how loud it was. She snuggled close to him, and he opened half an eye to see her.

“This is the best bed I’ve ever slept on,” his voice was sleepy, hoarse and deep, “What a right choice we made to come here.”

“I tend to agree, but may I remind you that  _ you _ didn’t want to come.”

“O, Lord, I now repent of all my mistakes committed in this mortal life, forgive me, this poor sinner.”

“Sleep, please,” she started kissing his face, and he let out a satisfied sound.

“I sort of want to.”

“But…?”

Trevor embraced her by her waist and pulled her up to the top of him, while he raised her chin with the other hand.

“I’d like to enjoy you a bit more.”

“It’s good to agree,” she laughed.

**~**

Sypha stretched her hand to feel the bed and did not find Trevor there. She shook the sleepiness away, got up, and found him by the broad window, admiring the sunless day. She hugged him from the back, and they both had a laugh at it. He released himself gently to invert the hug and put her on the front.

“Did you sleep well?,” he whispered to her ear.

“Like an angel.”

She heard his laugh and did so for the same reason. She took a breath of the windy, chilly morning breeze. Some raindrops hit the railing, and they closed the glass panels. There were knocks on the door. Trevor covered her with the blanket he carried as a cape, as their clothes were slightly out of place. Sypha said “come in,” and so did Alucard. She noticed his hair still pinned up.

“Good morning. I didn’t want to wake you up too early,” he came inside the bedroom, “Would you join me on a light meal?”

“Spot on. I’m kinda not hungry because of yesterday,” Trevor answered.

“I’ll bring it, then.”

The remaining ones behaved as much as possible; no clothes went to the floor. Alucard returned with a tray floating above his hand, with soup leftovers, day old bread, and fruits for three. Trevor thought of protesting until he saw three steaming mugs of mulled wine.

“Sometimes, I’m  _ really _ glad I didn’t make you into shoes.”

“Great. It’s a shame I poisoned your mug,” Alucard looked at him over the soup bowl, sitting at the dressing table’s chair.

“I’ll die happy drinking this wonderful wine to the last drop.”

Sypha let out a hopeless sound, rolled her eyes, leaned back on the pillows set by the headboard, and then ate the rest in silence. They finished in no time, and Trevor started scratching himself until his neck turned red.

“Did you poison me for real?”

“No. It’s bad luck killing guests outside of hand-to-hand combat.”

“Then I just need a shower. In this weather, the village’s cold water isn’t very inspiring to it,” Trevor shivered.

“Feel free to jump in the ditch. I won’t make all that water warm, though,” Alucard peeled a nut, “Anyway. Would you be ashamed if I-”

“Ashamed, of you?,” interrupted Trevor, “Underneath Gresit, I wasn’t the shirtless one.”

“If you only let me speak once in your life, you’d know I’m offering to heat up the damn bathhouse. It’s a relic, and there’s room for three. That is the question,” he ate the peeled nut, “I can get some clothes that you could wear into it.”

“I want the clothes,” Sypha felt her face getting warmer.

“What about you?,” Alucard pointed at Trevor, just to be ignored.

The host took them outside the bedroom towards other private rooms of the castle. He looked from one side to another for a while and guided them the opposite way.

“The bedroom where you are might have no clothes, but this one surely does,” he opened the wardrobe to reveal elegant shirts that fit a young boy, “They must suit you, Sypha. As for you…”

“I’ll get in with my own underwear, thanks,” Trevor shrugged it off.

“Don’t even think of stinking the bathwater with this dirty rag you wear. I refuse to get in the same water.”

“Wait, who said you’re coming?”

“Why would I lend you clothes if you both were going to get in on your own?,” Alucard rolled his eyes and threw a pair of large shorts at Trevor, “I sure can let you go first, if I’m a nuisance.

“Damn, whatever, come in,” Trevor untied his shirt’s cords, “I won’t let it ruin the moment.”

**~**

The chamber that opened up behind the thick doors was tiled of a greenish and slippery kind of stone. Some stairsteps descended into it, and, in the middle, a flower-shaped bath with five petals bloomed, surrounded by dim lights. The half-shaded ambience was welcoming, but every drop would resonate, and, for full relaxation, one should be silent. There was a waterfall close to a wall, and Alucard told them to get under it before anything else.

Sypha was prudent enough to choose a thick, opaque shirt, that would weigh three times more when soaked. She spent most of the time focused on washing Trevor’s hair with the refined soap they had, nothing like the greasy, funky soap bars she knew. Trevor let out a delighted sound or two, his eyes were closed and he had a brief smile. The water was warm and so it stayed, a blessing in such weather that would only get colder and colder. Sypha was already clean, and after rinsing Trevor’s head, she sat besides him on the stone bench. He held her and moved no more. Alucard was the most taciturn one: he sat on the opposite side and made no indications of ever talking. Neither him nor Trevor wore more than short pants by knee length.

“I’ve never seen such a thing before,” Sypha tried to keep her tone down, but called the attention of the other two, “I mean, sure it’s in literature, the public baths, but…”

“It’s a relic, as I said,” Alucard stretched his neck, “It was given to us before I was born, from one of my Chinese father’s servants, as a gesture of appreciation.”

“Appreciation for what?,” asked Trevor.

“It was all my father told me then. I forgot to ask more about it later.”

Trevor did a full-body stretch and pulled Sypha closer, changing the subject:

“All I could ask for now is a-”

“Bottle of wine,” interrupted Alucard, “That I won’t allow you to spill in the water.”

“You know I wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“The good old story of the drunkard that may even trip and fall, and won’t let the mug touch the ground?”

“This. I’ve had some booze before, luckily,” Trevor sat better on the bench and changed subjects, “We told you an odyssey, but you didn’t tell us what you did while we were out there.”

“Maybe because there isn’t much to tell,” Alucard shrugged, “I slept, mostly. The most remarkable thing I did may be going to the library once or twice.”

“Oh, did you?,” Trevor frowned.

“Yes. I did so for no reason. It was interesting coming across some of your old stuff.”

Sypha felt the arm that held her getting tense. Trevor asked:

“Stuff?”

“A drawing or two. Some journal pages. The kind of thing you do when you’re a kid. I also did-”

“I hope you’re not kidding.”

“I know what limits are,” Alucard stared at him with disapproval.

Sypha spent the rest of the bath holding hands with Trevor, and all of them remained quiet. They both went back to the bedroom, undressed the drenched clothes and wore new ones, also lended ones. She tried to pull him to bed gently, but he would rather finish the wine bottle, staring at the horizon that turned into night.

“I think he meant no harm,” she comforted him when she thought it was the time.

“I think nothing of it,” he let the bottle fall into the ditch, “Nothing.”

They heard knocks on the door, an hour or two after the night set, when Sypha had already given up on changing that bad mood. Alucard entered without asking for permission, with a face of zero regrets and something in his hands.

“I found it,” he sat on the same chair from before and handed the object to Trevor, “I also did the favor of binding them all.”

Trevor got the book, more like a notepad with no name on the cover, and opened it carefully, The first sheet was made of curves and names, a draft of his family tree up to a century before he was born. It went on to the Belmont Hold’s scenarios, his childhood tree, a face or another. He flipped pages, figuring them out for a second time.

“I didn’t know you could draw like that,” Sypha kissed him on the face.

“It’s been a while I don’t touch a piece of coal,” he did not move his eyes from the notepad, “And you found them all.”

“Thanks for spreading them all over the library,” Alucard put his feet up on the bed, with his arms crossed, “I spent a week awake searching for all the books whose title began with ‘T’.”

Sypha could see a hint of a smile crossing Trevor’s face. He closed the notepad and thanked.  _ Now, say you’re sorry. _ He did not.  _ Nevermind. _

**~**

“When do you think we can talk to him?”

The wind was strong and cold, but together and hugging, it was an acceptable optional suffering. The window revealed a free fall to the ditch, and there was little to see on the clouded sky. Trevor pulled her closer, even if they were close as possible, but that was how he liked it. He answered:

“I don’t know. But soon. We can’t stay forever.”

“And that’s a shame,” Sypha sighed, “There are fascinating libraries here. One should have an eternity to read everything.”

“The original owner of one of the libraries kind of  _ had _ an eternity.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

“I know, right?,” he turned her face for a kissed, and so she stayed.

“Do you think he’s coming?”

“If you’re the one asking, he sure will.”

“You’d have more of a shot on convincing him if you two didn’t act like toddlers to each other.”

“I’m talking about your appeal, darling,” Trevor smiled with intentions, and his hand reached for her waist, “You should look in the mirror more often.”

“Quit the nonsense. I’m not doing such a thing-”

“Shh, I’m kidding.”

The kiss went deeper, lasted longer, and had more feeling. When they parted, their breath condensed on the cold air of the night. Trevor took his eyes away from her and set them at the window’s railing.

“If you sit here…”

“Not a chance. There are  _ many _ meters to the ground.”

“With a closed window.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I’ll hold you,” he begged.

“To the mattress,” she pointed, “Now.”

**~**

Sypha snoozed on the bed. He could barely see her with the lights out, but caressed her contour over the half-dressed clothes and heard a pleasant comfort sound.  _ You’re so beautiful. _ He reached for the nightstand and found the water jar to be without a single drop. Trevor turned to do so, and when he moved, his head hurt. His mouth was drier than ever.  _ Damn that wonderful wine. _ He whispered that he was going out for water, and she answered something along the lines of “alright,” muffled by the pillow. He left her with a kiss on the cheek and had to leave the warm bed. As he lighted up the hand lamp, he had time to see Sypha pulling the blankets over herself.

_ Right, now, on to the kitchen. _ A hallway after another, stairs and more stairs, big rooms and carpets and he found himself running in circles.  _ This goddamn place. _ He tried going the opposite direction.  _ Worst case scenario, I’ll drink from the restroom.  _ When Trevor turned on a corner, he started to find the surroundings very familiar. There were wood pieces shattered on the floor and the walls had scratches. He reinforced walking carefully, as if something was lurking around. He saw a huge hole on a wall, and the lights of torches.  _ I know where I am. _ From inside the room, he heard in a good tone:

“Who’s there?”

Trevor did not answer. He was not sure if stepping forwards or backwards was more proper.

“It’s you, isn’t it, Trevor?”

He entered through the rupture and could see Alucard’s childhood bedroom, with himself in it, without a very welcoming face.

“What do you want?”

“Water,” Trevor stuttered, “Wine. A headache. You know.”

Alucard let his head down and sighed, rubbing his own face discreetly with the back of the hand. He mumbled to follow him, and so did Trevor, who went quiet.

They arrived the kitchen and lots of water were drunk there. Trevor filled the jar and covered it with the lid, being fearful of making any kind of noise. Alucard sat by the kitchen table and stared at him with no interest, sometimes looking at the walls instead.

“Don’t tell Sypha,” he seemed as speaking to himself, “Or do it. It doesn’t matter.”

“She doesn’t need to know.”

Trevor found better to sit down and he did on the opposite side.

“How long has it been since you left the Hold?,” Alucard asked, unconnected with the moment.

“I came with you the last time, sure. But before that, you mean? I don’t know,” Trevor searched in his memory, “I was maybe twelve when I left.”

“I never really asked how old are you, but I suppose it’s been more than a decade.”

_ I don’t really worry that much about counting the passing time. _

“It must be that.”

“Many things must have happened,”  _ And why do you care?,  _ Trevor thought of interrupting, but let Alucard speak, “What did you do for a living?”

“All kinds of things,” Trevor scratched his own head.

“Be more specific.”

He started to count on the fingers, remembering. “I cleaned stables. Tied some hay. Fixed roofs. Helped on the harvest. Drew water from the well. Chopped some firewood. Set fair stands.”

“Did you shoplift from those stands?”

Trevor felt the sting of an insult. “Seldom. I was young and starving.”

“I didn’t mean to imply anything,” Alucard had a pale smile, “Did you also run and hide?”

“What do you think?”

“Did you train in secret?”

“You can bet.”

_ What do I say now? “Goodbye, I’m off to bed, stay there crying on your own” isn’t an option. _ He drank some water, missing the wine, but thirstier for it than for alcohol. Trevor touched his wais by where would be the sword and the whip.  _ He must be waiting for me to leave. _

“I was about to ask why you both are back, but I believe it isn’t good timing,” Alucard said.

“It isn’t bad either,” Trevor shrugged.

“I’d rather not to need a carrier pigeon role. Wait for Sypha,” Alucard stood with his hands on the table, “I doubt you just missed me.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“I wasn’t counting on that.”

Trevor did the same, taking the precious water with him, and remained quiet.

“I’ll take you back to your bedroom,” Alucard looked at him over the shoulder, and did a head tilt for Trevor to follow, “Go. It’s way too cold to sleep alone.”


	2. Reluctant hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome, everyone. I hope it's worth the wait. I'm still questioning my translating skills, so I'm open for constructive criticism on that matter, also, on any other topic. To the returning people, thanks for keeping up with this unusual publishing schedule. Let's get started.

“The weather cleared up a bit,” Sypha spoke with a mouth full of bread.

“Uh-huh,” Trevor chewed a carrot, staring at another one.

“And I think we should take a walk. Buy some food. See what’s around.”

He repeated the agreement behind the glass of wine.

“It’s not like the groceries are in the end today,” Alucard cleaned his lips on a fabric napkin, “I can reduce my eating, too. I don’t need this much.”

“It doesn’t look like you’re overeating,” Sypha spread butter on another slice of bread.

“I am. I’ve been eating this much out of celebration.”

“Who would say, you’re happy to have some guests,” Trevor threw an apple in the air and was fast enough to stick a knife in it.

“It’s quite an event, and I like to see the castle back on traction,” Alucard got up and piled up the kitchenware, “Are you upset, Trevor? You can sleep in the woods, maybe. We’ve also got excellent jail cells in the basement, and cold towers made of the best stones…”

“About that, can I see the lab any time soon?” Sypha finished the bread.

“I can take you both there. I hope to offer a good tour, in spite of lacking some apparel,” Alucard looked outside through the window behind the sink, “How long does it take to get to Sohodol?”

“An hour and a half or two,” Trevor cleaned his nails with the knife tip, “Not raining, like this, it’ll be fast.”

_ It shall be a nice trip, I believe. _ Alucard pinned up his hair again. He had no idea of how long it was since the last time he left the castle; months, maybe.  _ And on a sunny day like this. _ He waited for the other two on the same living room he spent the night with Sypha, and after that, alone. Skimming through the shelves, he found an empty book and stared at it for a good while.  _ Maybe…  _ He rested his hand on the chin.  _ I’ll take it. _

**~ **

“And why are we leaving the road, anyway?” Trevor walked with his hands behind his head, and rolled his eyes.  _ I can’t believe it. _

“I want to show you a thing. There, follow me.”

Alucard pointed at a tree that stood out, surrounded by not many others. He floated until he could reach a branch from where hanged a frame of wood and fiber.

“I made it in the past summer. Let’s see if we’re lucky.”

“What is it?” asked Sypha.

“A beehive. The bees might have left it since it’s raining, and it’s ours, if dry and free of ants,” he opened it by the bottom, “And… Check it out.”

There were clean and left behind honeycombs inside, and Alucard brought all the structure down when he landed.

“It’s way too big for us to take them all, but a piece or another might fit in the luggage.”

“On to the grocery bag, then,” Trevor put the belongings down to the ground and searched for a place to fit it. The bag was way less chaotic without all the food from before.

Alucard handed him the honeycombs and they all waited for Trevor to put them away; there was a slight breeze, and when he finished folding the honey in a piece of cloth, he saw Alucard raise his head and ask:

“Can you smell this?”

“Smell what?” the other two inquired at the same time.

He guided them even farther from the road and in the woods, dodging roots and branches of all sort. Trevor and Sypha were slightly left behind.  _ It’s hard to keep up with this guy. _ They found a pile of ashes on the ground, near a big tree, and surrounded it; Alucard picked up a stick, poked and turned it. The odour of something burning spread in the air.

“This smell.”

The pile of ashes and leaves revealed a bunch of burned bones under itself, and it was still afire inside the mount.

“What the hell? This time of the day,” Sypha frowned.

“Weird stuff everywhere,” Trevor did not pay it much attention, “It smells like a ritual.”

“Terrible pun,” she laughed and crouched.

Sypha put out the fire and picked up one of the bones; it was still warm. She broke it in two with no challenges to see what was inside, and it contained a red substance, brighter than blood.

“See this,” she got up and handed them the fragments, each one to their own.

“It’s from a night creature,” Alucard stated, “There is this liquid inside some of their skeletons.”

“And this…,” Trevor pointed at the ground and kneeled to pick up something. On his hand, there was a bone spike the size of a finger, “...Is from the gargoyle we slayed.”

“That’s true,” Sypha grabbed the spike, “Someone got out of their way to bring the remains here and set them on fire.”

“Plus, right under our nose,” Trevor sighed, “It looks like another job for us.”

Him and Sypha looked at each other and she agreed.  _ It’s time. _

“Can you help us with this, Alucard? We’ll owe you one,” Trevor said.

“Owe me what? I don’t plan on charging someone with no two nickels to rub together.”

“Explain it, at least,” Sypha complained, “Things have been rough. I mean, more than we can handle. We left behind lots of bigger incidents, because we simply can’t work miracles. Please, travel with us.”

“I’ll be one more mouth to feed, even if I eat very little.”

“And one more pair of hands to spare, think for a bit,” Trevor smirked, “Wouldn’t it be good to breathe some fresh air outside of your bat cave?”

“I’m fine at home, thanks for asking.”

_ Liar. _ Trevor held back, or it would be worse.  _ You know as well as I do where were you last night. _ Alucard went on:

“I’ll help you for now. Stay in the castle as long as you deem needed, until things settle down.”

“Jobs around will become scarce,” Trevor rolled his eyes, “You’ll see, and it’ll come back to haunt you.”

Alucard stared angrily at him, but Trevor cared very little. They all went back to the road with nothing of the previous mood; they did not talk or banter, Sypha walked by Trevor’s side and they both left Alucard go ahead.  _ I really, really love relying on other people. _

The first farms sprouted by both sides of the road. The country folk could also appreciate a sunny day. A bunch of kids that could not be older than eight kicked and threw a ball stuffed with hay over the trail and the heads of the passing people. Sypha waved for those who recognized her, and Trevor did so with a nod only, burying himself in the fur cloak and not really willing to be seen.  _ What a pain to be a Belmont around here. _ Alucard looked around with reticence, not anymore as far as he walked before.  _ Is he curious? _ His hair had barely a trace of color under the sunlight, and his skin, for sure, would love a bit of a tan. They caught a sight of the rudimentar bulwark that surrounded the central buildings, that was of no use against the gargoyle with a pair of bat wings and supernatural hunger.

The stable of Sohodol stood near the gate. Trevor knocked on the door and the same boy that took them to the Hold answered, with shy manners and as much politeness as his homeliness could have.

“Hello, sir,” he seemed surprised, “Around here again?”

“Yeah, pal,” Trevor noticed the young one staring at Alucard from head to toe and stopping himself of crossing for the millionth time.

“Needing horses?”

“No, thank you very much. But we could use some fresh water, if you may,” he handed the boy their empty flasks and a coin, “What’s going on around here?”

“The market will open today. We sleep in peace now. Thanks to you, my sir, and my lady,” he smiled and looked around, “I mean, kind of.”

“Kind of?” Trevor raised his eyebrow.

“I’ll get the water, sir. I’ll be right back.”

“Catch it,” Trevor threw him another coin that fell on the haystacks, and the boy spent quite some time looking for it before leaving.

They all waited in silence.  _ What could have happened here in such a short interval? _ The boy came back with a jug in each hand and another one under his arm.

“So, what’s catching?” Trevor dried his own flask and gave it back so it was filled again.

“They thought the demon you slayed had awaken from the dead. Its body is gone.”

_ Interesting. _

“And what else?” Trevor asked.

“Missing people, sir,” he signed so that Trevor would crouch to his height and, so the boy started whispering, “Two of them. They were last seen yesterday.

“Really?” Trevor looked sideways to the other two, “And who missed them?”

“The town hall. It’s the registrar. It’s an odd story, sir.”

“So tell me.”

“Hear me, then,” he quit whispering and started making gestures, “A burglar invaded the registrar’s house. He was about to leave with the loot through the window when he tripped and fell like a ripe fruit. He’s crippled and in jail. But there was no house owner in sight, nor the visitor he had home.”

“And there’s no clue of where they are?”

“The burglar said they left by the sunset. He waited for them to leave, you know?”

“Oh, yes I do. As for the house…”

“It’s one street before the fountain.”

“Thanks, friend,” Trevor gave him another spare change, “This one is yours, not your boss’.”

They headed downtown in the crowded village. Trevor tracked the surroundings for the house mentioned and believed it to be one of the fancy lofts before the square. They all shared the narrow streets with carriages, horses and passerbys of all kinds. Among the buzz, Alucard thought out loud:

“Two missing people. Why, and where are they?”

“They wouldn’t be missing if we only knew,” Trevor did not even look back.

“Great. Discussing an assumption is now a crime susceptible of retaliation from the Belmont clan-”

“Focus. The market. It’s right here in front of us,” Sypha cut them off, dodging an old lady, “Sorry, ma’am.”

She then went on walking by the fair with vivacity and a splendid mood. She shook hands of everyone who could recall her, would get prices off, listened to each and every gratitude. Trevor stood by a barrack of beef jerky to eat a slice or two, and the seller was as taciturn as him.  _ Well, let’s leave them be. _

“I’ll seek a mug of beer,” he left the bags on Alucard’s hands.

**~**

It was tough to circulate on the running chaos of the market. Not only he was taller than most people by a head of difference; Alucard was full of bags. Some stared at him when he stopped by to check the products. A barrack shone on distance, surrounded by nobody, with a wrinkled old man with a mustache behind the stuff. Alucard walked there.  _ A tinsmith. _ The man barely looked at him and invited him to suit himself. Among lamps, pans, watering cans and other pieces, the vendor asked: 

“Are you just passing by Sohodol, son?”

“Yes, one could say. I seldom leave home.”

“I can tell. You’ve been in need of some skin tone,” the old man seemed to joke, but he had his head down, molding a metal mug, and did not smile.

“Maybe it would be good,” Alucard looked up to the sky, “What a rare weather in this season.”

He went on examining the products and bought the mug that the old man fixed, offering a honeycomb in exchange.

“You can take another piece,” the old man unfolded the honeycomb and admired it, “If I may suggest, take another mug. Or, perhaps, the macerator.”

Alucard reached for the latter, made of a heavy cup and a pestle.  _ I have some of these, made of fine porcelain. But the kitchen has room for this. _ He thanked the man and went away to meet Sypha, sitting by the fountain with a bag as full as his own ones.

“What do you have there?” he asked, sitting by her side.

“Check it out,” she handled him the bag, from where Alucard could see a turnip.

_ Onions, celery, cabbage, spinach… _ He saw an intriguing object among them and picked it up. It was a small, charming fabric bag, tied by a ribbon that was too wide for its size.

“Clover?” he smelled it.

“Yes, for the mulled wine.”

“Surprises in a flourishing village,” he handed it back, “There’s something written on the ribbon. What is it?”

_ “By the power, one can measure a man,” _ Sypha squinted her eyes to read the small letters.

“It must be a family motto. Check out mine,” he gave her one of the bags.

“Oat grain, butter, meat, wheat… Jam?”

“There was money to spare,” he got up, “Shall we get going?”

They walked side by side; she knew where one of the town’s taverns was located, and asking a fruit vendor for directions showed them the other one.  _ It’s closer to us, so, there must be it.  _

“We should maybe try to find the registrar’s house first,” it occurred to Alucard.

“That’s true. A street before the fountain, that’s what the boy said?”

They circled the ring-shaped path that surrounded the town’s square. There was more than a loft, and some of them had their windows open, with affluent residents enjoying a sunny day; others had signs of life and movement, the sounds from the kitchen, the muffled footsteps from inside. One of them, however, was sealed shut and quiet.

“It’s this one,” Alucard whispered to her.

“The old, creepy house?”

“Not just that,” he took a deep breath, “It smells like dried blood.”

“Can you actually smell it?” she thought for a bit and laughed it off, “Well, I don’t know what I expected.”

Alucard smiled and changed subjects:

“I’m not for trying to break in right now.”

“Yeah. It’ll draw too much attention,” Sypha tidied the bag on her shoulder, “But, maybe, if we check the backyard…”

“Not a bad idea.”

The back of the house was also of little liveliness and the backdoor was closed.  _ Or blocked. _ Alucard tried pushing it and felt more opposing strength than just a lock. 

“There are screws missing,” Sypha pointed at the door frame, “Actually, there’s much of the metalware missing.”

“It might have been the burglar.”

“My guess is that he’d waste less time trying to bust the lock.”

“And why would someone leave an unkempt backdoor like this one?” he laid a hand on his chin.

“To change the screws, I don’t know,” she did the same, “Given the house’s whole aspect, why would an owner take care of this, and this only?”

“That’s a good question. That must not be the reason.”

“The answer is inside the house. Later, then?”

“Later,” he agreed, “Do we pick up Trevor now?”

“Dragging him by an ear,” she smirked.

“I’m so eager for him to interrupt me again,” Alucard had a disgusted face, and they moved again, “Now that I appreciated a brief moment of someone that would listen to me.”

Sypha seemed at a loss of words and he stared at her with questions.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she stuttered.  _ You’re a very poor actress. _ Sypha pointed at a building, “That looks like a tavern to me.”

As they set foot inside the place, the keeper, a middle-aged woman, was fast as a bolt and stopped whatever she did to hinder them:

“No groceries inside.”

“What do we do, then, ma’am?” Alucard tried respecting her without much eagerness.

“You can pay and use the storage.”

Him and Sypha looked at each other and agreed grudgingly. They handed her the bags and a small fee. Trevor was easy to see from that corner, still under the fur cloak and by the counter. He drank alone, but his server, a young boy, kept him company in a compenetrate conversation. It was a puny and disheveled kid, maybe ten years old, that noticed them before his customer.

“We’ve got things to do. Get up,” Alucard poked him on the shoulder.

“What a shame,” Trevor stretched his arms, “I just asked for another mug. Why don’t you sit down?”

“It’ll do no harm,” Sypha agreed and sat.

“Drinks, sir and ma’am?”

“One of the same for each, if you may,” Trevor asked before they had time to refuse.

_ Well, so be it. _ Alucard sat by Trevor’s left side. Before the boy was back, there was enough time to look around and notice the goodly dishes on the tables. As he arrived with the beer, Sypha ashed:

“What’s the dish of the day?”

“Roast hen with a side of parsnip and cabbage. Would you like one, ma’am?”

“Bring it, please.”

“Why are you eating here if we just went out for groceries?” Trevor said when the server was gone.

“They’re in the tavern’s storage,” Sypha sighed, “The keeper didn’t let us in with them.”

“The grumpy woman?” Trevor asked, carefully quiet.

“Exactly,” Alucard replied after a sip of the beer.  _ It’s not bad. _

It took a short moment so that the alcohol got to him, with an empty stomach. He looked around the tavern again and could see the infamous woman approaching, giving her little notice. Suddenly, Trevor cursed and turned to Alucard:

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I did what?”

“Don’t play dumb, you-”

Sypha pointed at his back and there was the tavern keeper with a wooden spoon in hand.

“Did you come to pick up this friend of yours?” she muttered with a sour voice.

“Ma’am, may I know  _ why _ did you do that?”

“Oh, you know quite well. Keep him away from my daughter.”

“Daughter?” the three asked at the same time.

The woman pointed with the spoon to the same kid bartender, that emptied mugs on a no longer occupied table.

“She’s eleven. Keep it in your pants.”

“I talked to  _ her _ about beer, ma’am. And I’m on the counter near the  _ booze _ . I’m well engaged, thank you very much,” he pulled Sypha by her shoulders, and she was briefly startled.

The lady glared at them for a while more and left with a “have a good day”. Trevor finished the mug and touched his head where he was hit, complaining:

“Geez. Not even if it looked like a girl…”

The then girl arrived with lunch, that smelled as good at it was abundant. After she left the bowls, she went behind the counter and recalled Trevor’s mug, saying:

“I’m sorry for what Mom did,” she lowered her head, “She tells me to dress like this. So that nothing happens to me.

“I know how’s that,” Sypha smiled at her and tasted the parsnip, then speaking with a full mouth, “Very nice food. Did you make it?”

“The parsnip, yes. One more drink, sir?” she asked Trevor, who accepted and also ate, “I actually only don’t touch the firewood. Mom won’t let me. It used to be Dad before, but he’s with God now.”

“And do you have any siblings?” Sypha gave her attention.

“I have sisters. I’m the oldest of three,” the girl pointed at Trevor, “I swear he didn’t lay a finger on me.” 

“A sane mind, what a sight,” Trevor celebrated with a hint of irony, “Can we head to the empty table right there?”

“One pays more for the table. But I’ll give Mom some of my change.”

“Thanks a lot. What’s your name?” Alucard decided to ask.

“I’m Isobel. Quick, before she sees us.”

They helped her taking the dishes and mugs, and the girl used the time to tend to other tables. As they set there, Alucard poked Trevor’s thigh, who had a little scare.  _ Are you traumatized? _ , Alucard laughed up his sleeve and gave him a fabric wrap under the table, from a good angle that would not be seen. Trevor gazed at it without a clue.

“I was kind enough to smuggle it,” Alucard whispered among the tavern’s noise.

Trevor opened the package, that fit his palm, and recognized a honeycomb.

“Is it a miracle?” he threw a piece of it swiftly, but did not thank for it.

They found themselves too busy with the meal to chat. When all the bowls and dishes were coming to an end, Sypha suggested:

“We can try and talk to the girl about what’s happening around here,” she cleaned her mouth with the back of the hand, “Lots of people come and go from the tavern. She might have heard something.”

“Sounds good. Try it,” Trevor squeezed her hand gently on the table, and soon they left their held hands fall under it.

As Isobel passed by with a stack of empty dishes, Sypha called her by her name.

“What’s going on around the town? We’re outsiders.”

“The gargoyle and the burglar. Do you know it already?”

“A bit about each,” she told half a truth, “I’d love to hear some more.”

“So, the gargoyle. They say it was huge, and that it flied. Mom forbid me of leaving home and didn’t let me see it,” as she mentioned it, her mother shouted for her from the kitchen, “But they came here, people say, a man and a woman. The lady had fire in her hands! They say she set fire on the demon’s nest and almost on all of the rock wall. And the young man had… A longsword and a whip. He lassoed the thing by its wing and threw it to the church’s roof. It was stuck to the cross on the top. He climbed there and-”

_ Longsword? _ , Alucard laughed, but did not correct her; he also notice Trevor and Sypha staring at one another, sharing the fun of it. Isobel’s mother called her again.

“I’ll be back soon.”

When she turned her back and was far enough, they all burst out laughing.

“Did you break your sword, Trevor?” he poked fun.

“Oh, sure. And I certainly didn’t throw the gargoyle to the church’s  _ wall _ .”

“Who tells a tale…,” Sypha shrugged and devoured the abandoned rest of the cabbage.

Isobel came back, and she had a shine on her eyes she did not have before.

“Where did I stop? Did I finish the gargoyle story?”

“Exactly,” Alucard rested his chin on his hand, and looked at her with the friendliest smile he had. 

“The burglar, then. My uncle is a town guard and a prison ward. He came yesterday to tell Mom,” she got closer to speak quietly, with a smug, “They’re both very loud.”

The three on the table looked at each other.  _ A stroke of luck. _ Isobel went on:

“A burglar came from another city, he made himself look as a beggar. The townspeople started to know who he was. He stayed by the street, watching the house, he noticed the registrar leaving every day at the same time. When he got in the house through the window and saw what was inside…,” she gestured to indicate a falling thing, “He plummeted from the first floor.”

“They say the registrar wasn’t home,” Alucard tried.

“And he wasn’t. Neither him, nor the visitor. No one knows where they are. And the burglar makes the sign of the cross whenever he talks about what he saw.”

“Why is that?” Trevor asked.

“He found the demon’s doings there,” Isobel whispered.

“Demon’s doings?” Sypha inquired.

“Right,” she nodded. The three of them listened with full attention, “Drawings, red stains… He lit one of the room’s candles and saw blood on the floor. He walked backwards, and then fell out of the window. My uncle says the tumble made him crazy, that it can’t be. The registrar was a former seminarian…”


	3. Rhetoric and logic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I'm still not sure if I have actual readers, so I might be talking to myself in these notes. In case I'm not, you're welcome, and thanks for your return. I'm always open to know what you people think about this story, especially when it comes to language matters. I hope you like the twists and turns of this chapter.

It was already afternoon when they left the tavern. They decided to leave the groceries in the storage; despite not being very heavy, weight was weight, and walking around with fabric bags was always a nuisance. Sypha waited on her own for Isobel to show up on her way to the kitchen and signed at her to come closer. The girl looked from one side to another and decided to do it.

“What’s up, ma’am?” she asked, sounding curious.

“I want to ask you a thing,” Sypha kneeled to talk to her, “First, I’d like to tell you something. We were the ones that slayed the gargoyle, actually.”

“Really?” Isobel spoke louder, but Sypha told her to be quiet.

“Really. The whole town knows about it. But what I want is, don’t telly anybody about what you told us on the table.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Yes,” she put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, “I might need to come back later. Can I?”

Isobel nodded and Sypha smiled at her.

“I’ll come on my own. My friends can be kind of… Scary,” she reminded the people’s uneasiness upon seeing Alucard and laughed.  _ No wonder _ , “If you know something more, promise you’re going to tell me?”

“I promise. And my lips are sealed.”

“I’m counting on you, right? Be careful.”

Sypha turned around the building to the front, where Trevor and Alucard waited for her in silence, watching the time that passed.

“Done. Let’s head to the town hall,” she called them.

“I think they might recall me there,” Trevor put his hands in his pockets and started walking behind her, “If the mayor is the same pious geezer, or his son, they sure do.”

“What if we went for another worker?” suggested Alucard, “Just show us who’s who.”

Arriving downtown, Trevor barred them with an arm when leaving an alley and whispered for them to look discreetly. Sypha could see a young man in a cassock, about the same age as they were, full of papers in his arms and talking to an old, shriveled lady.  _ That’s the priest. _

“He helped us with the gargoyle,” she recalled.

“He’s the grandson of the mayor, and he’s going to recognize us now, poking our noses on the disappearance of one of his relatives,” Trevor said, low-spirited, “What a mediocre little brat.”

“And this problem of yours, is it personal?” Alucard asked.

“Pretty much.”

Alucard frowned with a cunning smile and walked back in the alley:

“It’s actually not that hard to deal with his kind.”

Little by little, he changed his own features, clothes, and hair color; he took a ribbon from the jacket and used it to tie his hair on a low ponytail. In the end, Alucard was dressed as a nob and smelling like roses, as if he was just out of the dressing table.

“Sypha, do you have any paper on you?” he requested.

“I have…,” she checked her pockets, “...Half a sheet.”

“That’ll be enough.”

He got it and put his hand over the piece of paper, that increased in side, gained waves of handwriting and a convincing wax stamp. He got closer from the end of the alley and pointed:

“He has lots of paper inside that Bible. Not many people know how to read in a town like this.”

“So, he’s headed…,” Sypha thought out loud.

“...Exactly where we want him to go,” Trevor finished.

They waited until the market was more crowded and Alucard showed up at the square with a fake booklet, choosing a spot where the other two could see him. He glanced at them and made a head gesture.

“What does he want?” Trevor frowned.

“Let’s try and get closer.”

They went along with a passing wagon with hay to sit around the fountain; Alucard did not stop them, so they stayed. Trevor looked around the stands and bought a dried fig to munch with some spare change. As he intended to sit, he noticed the old lady talking to the priest was about to leave, and Alucard’s calculated moves towards him, leaving to the same narrow street besides the church.

“Let’s go,” Sypha muttered.

Trevor complied, and she followed him until a cart full of barrels. They did not see the intentional bump, but they both heard the dozens of paper sheets falling to the ground and Alucard’s fake apologies.

“Can I help you pick up your notes, sir?”

“It would be much appreciated, thank you,”  _ What a snob. _ Sypha smirked.

When Alucard crouched to make a pile out of the spread sheets, the priest looked at a noisy pigeon’s nest that dirtied the church’s roof. It was a proper moment for Alucard to plant Sypha’s paper there, as if he wanted nothing of it. He stood with the pile and handed it to the priest.

“Here they are, sir. I must apologize again.”

“Thanks,” he seemed to care very little, and to bother a lot, turning his back, “May God be with you.”

Alucard noticed their moves and spotted them behind the barrels with a surprised smile.

“What’s so funny?” Trevor asked, monotone.

“You two following me here,” he fixed the jacket’s cufflinks, “Well, it’s there. I’ll keep the camouflage for now.”

“And what do we do now?” Trevor went on.

“We wait. In half an hour, give me directions to the town hall.”

“Let’s go to the other tavern, then. It won’t hurt.”

“Where are we going?” Sypha gave him a dirty look and crossed her arms.

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Did you make a decision already?” interrupted Alucard.

“Yes,” Trevor pulled her by the hand.

Out of the two taverns there were in Sohodol, they chose to stop by the one that accommodated them the night after the gargoyle hunt, out of gratitude. The staff could recall them and served them well, and both of the owners were very look-alike brothers.  _ What is Isobel doing right now, though? _ Sypha smiled at nobody behind a mug of beer. 

**~**

Alucard left them in the tavern when it was already time. Trevor told him how to get to the town hall; passing by the church, he gave it a peek to check if there was any trace of the priest.  _ He must be in the town hall, as expected. _ The building was not any bigger than a large stone house, with two arcs by the entrance before the doors and a guard dressed in an old uniform standing by one of the pillars, cleaning his nails with a pocket knife.

“Excuse me, sir, is the priest here?” Alucard had the friendliest tone he could manage.

“He is,” the guard gazed at him, weirded out, and slowly put away the pocket knife, “I’ll go tell him you’re here.”

“Oh, there’s no need for it. He might be waiting for me.”

The man cared very little and signed that he entered the hall. Inside it, Alucard looked around.  _ It’s a pretty quiet day here. _ He turned into a corridor, then to its parallel one; despite not being a monumental building, the town hall had quite a lot of rooms and a counterintuitive design. How would he find the priest? Alucard closed his eyes and meditated.  _ The sound of a quill… _ He walked blindly, running a hand on the wall.  _ It comes from here. _ He stopped in front of the door and knocked to hear a tired “come in”.

“Oh,” the priest looked at him over his seeing glasses with no esteem, “What brings you here, sir?”

“I’m deeply sorry to bother you again, but I believe one of my documents ended up among yours when I bumped into you, sir,” Alucard scratched his head with a gloved hand, “Could I possibly check to see if I can find it? It is nowhere to be seen in my luggage.”

“I demand that you don’t take long,” the priest picked up the papers inside the Bible by a corner of the table and handed it to Alucard, “There’s lots of work to do.”

“I sure can figure,”  _ Right, time to act. _ He started flipping sheets after the false document, “I’m just passing by the town, I’m leaving tomorrow. But what I’ve heard here is intriguing to say the least.”

The priest stared at him the same way and did not answer.

“I’m sorry if it’s too much of an intrusion, but I had to ask around until someone of the people told me you were temporarily replacing the registrar. I couldn’t just lose my service order like that.”

“And who else would know how to write in this place stuck in time?” the priest changed from a paper to another and tidied his glasses, “He’s my second cousin, the registrar. We’re a big family.”

“What in the world happened to him?”

“Heaven knows,” he sighed, “He wasn’t fond of hunting, but he would go for walks at night, just like a madman would do. Maybe he got lost, or had the bad luck to run into a wolf?”

“I see you might hold a grudge against him.”

“It’s not like that,” the priest dipped the quill into ink and signed a book, “One who sees a lantern in twilight won’t even mind it, even amongst the people. It was always him. Or it is. It’s not like he passed away.”

“I understand,” Alucard went back and forth with the pile of paper, “Was there a gentleman with him?”

“Yes, a friend from his seminarian days. They exchange letters whenever they can. Believe me, two well-educated men in this backwater. I don’t know what was that sir doing here besides paying a visit, though.”

“Here it is, thank goodness,” Alucard picked up Sypha’s undercover shopping list, “Thank you very much for the patience, sir.”

“God be with you, again.”

When Alucard left the labyrinth of rooms, he noticed the guard snoozing. He passed by him without a notice and walked the reverse way to the tavern.

**~**

The tavern’s door opened, and, in an unpretentious turn of a head, Trevor saw Alucard coming in, still in disguise with the illusionary outfit and the false hair color. Polished and refined, he was a stranger in the chaos of the tavern, where people drank, ate and talked with as much crudeness and noise as possible.

Trevor had Sypha under his arm, intoxicated like it was rare for her to do, and gently squeezed her shoulder to change her focus from the food to the tavern’s entrance. Alucard kneeled besides the table to talk to them, what sounded like a whisper among the uproar:

“Pay and let’s go. We’d better talk in private.”

“There’s no need to pay,” Trevor hiccuped, “We saved Sohodol, remember? It isn’t a fortune you have every day.”

Alucard was about to reprehend him when they got up and waved at one of the siblings that owned the tavern, that answered with a broad smile. Trevor kissed Sypha on the face, and instead of blushing or losing her manners, she laughed freely.  _ How I love it when you cross the line.  _ On the way, they told Alucard of Trevor’s disaster try on juggling with three apples while he undid the camouflage in order to return to the other tavern. Alucard looked like he forced himself to laugh and left Trevor with a question mark.  _ Was it that serious in the town hall? _

They rented an upstairs bedroom with the unpleasant lady keeper, putting more coins on her hands.

“Two bedrooms?” she inquired, with the same bad face as before, untouched by the cash.

“Only one is fine, thanks,” Sypha answered, and then she was pulled by her waist for a hug. 

“Climb the stairs, it’s open,” the owner stared at them, head to toe, “I’ll go get the keys.”

Trevor ran upstairs after Sypha, as if they were two kids, but deeply intrigued with Alucard’s talk. When they entered the bedroom, it had a humble double bed, a chest, a table, and a chair.

“Only one bedroom is alright?” Trevor frowned and asked Alucard, “You’ll have to sleep on the floor or the like.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s just so that we have a private space,” he closed the door, “Also, it’s better that we pay only one fee.”

Sypha dove into the mattress and said:

“Wow, the bed is a thousand times softer than the other tavern’s.”

“And the keeper is a thousand times grumpier,” Trevor laughed and laid down by her side, his arms behind his head.

There were knocks on the door.  _ Speak of the devil. _ The keeper brought them the groceries and the key, and left without saying a word. After she was gone, Alucard locked the bedroom, closed the windows, and sat by the bed end.

“I talked to the snob in the town hall,” he began, looked from one to another, “One of the missing men is his second cousin. The registrar, I mean. The other one is a registrar’s friend, from his seminarian days, but the priest knew nothing of the reasons of the visitor. There are great chances that the gargoyle shenanigans in the forest was of their doing.”

“Why do you say?” Trevor also sat on the bed, with his torso on the frame.

“The registrar has the habit of walking at night, to the point the people in the farms would see him with a lantern and not attack him. It sounds pretty suspicious to me,” Alucard sighed, “If you match it with what Isobel told us, I believe they are involved in the gargoyle thing, and that they are dealing with what they shouldn’t.”

“What do you mean?” Sypha asked.

“The burglar, according to Isobel, saw them leave and they never came back, also there were strange things in the house.”

“So we investigate the house,” Trevor scratched his beard.

“It’s in the plans,” Alucard agreed.

“I just knew there was a plan.”

“Whatever,” Alucard rubbed his face with his hand, “We’ll see what’s in the house. Plus, if Isobel is telling us the truth, we might be dealing with occultists.”

“It’s the kind of thing an occultist would do, indeed,” Trevor looked at the closed window, thinking, “What are the odds they burned the gargoyle on a cardinal point for some crazy reason, and then they went to another cardinal point?”

“Maybe to draw attention… Or to dismiss where they are,” Sypha suggested. 

“And what are the odds the dandy priest is involved?” Trevor slouched on the bed.

“It’s possible. They didn’t seem very much shocked with what happened,” Alucard analyzed, “But let’s not invest much thought onto that idea before we check the house.”

“So, we both go when it’s night?” Trevor asked, “Sypha stays and talks to the little girl about the jail thing. There are still about two hours until it gets dark, and I’d love a nap right here where I am.”

“I agree with the plan,” Sypha laid together.

“It’s fine, I guess,” Alucard proceeded to the chair with a botany book he put in the luggage for whatever reason, “I’ll wake you up with a bucket of water when it’s time.”

“Yeah, you will,” Trevor closed his eyes.

**~**

Sypha’s awakening was a result of the noise down in the tavern mixed with the senseless dream she had. She could still feel relaxed from the afternoon drinks. During his sleep, Trevor turned himself with the stomach up and a tranquil face. Sypha yawned and stretched herself; when she rested her hand on the bed again, she touched a shoulder and had a short scare. Alucard also opened his eyes, lying with his hands crossed over his chest.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you,” she said.

“No problem,” he raised half his body and sat on the bed, “I didn’t warn you I was going to lie down as well.”

“It must be evening already.”

“Do I pick up the bucket?”

“If I can’t wake Trevor up, yeah,” she laughed.

Sypha shook him by the shoulder and called him. He opened his eyes a bit and he pulled her in for a kiss.

“Good morning, darling,” his voice was raspy, “Is it time?”

“It is. You just escaped another bath.”

“Which is a shame,” Alucard stood.

Trevor also jumped out of bed, and Sypha went for the luggage to find her cloak. She wore it over Alucard’s borrowed clothes, instead of her usual ones. She took a moment to look outside through a slit of the half-open window, and the street was dark and empty.

“There is no one around. Go, you two, and I’ll wait for Isobel,” she closed the window again.

Sypha saw Trevor take two of the bedroom’s candles and put them into his pants’ pockets. They kissed goodbye, a kiss that was short on shame and time, before they went downstairs.

“We meet in the back later. Correct?” she unlocked the door.

“Yes, ma’am,” agreed Trevor.

She watched them leave and waved, sitting herself by the counter with the hood up on her head. There was no server; neither the keeper, nor Isobel. Sypha left through the front door and the street was as deserted as seeing from upstairs. She turned around the building not to find a single soul.  _ Where might she be? _ Half an hour went by when only the cranky woman showed up to pick up mugs and dishes. Sypha decided to go back to the bedroom. There, at least, she would have silence and a book. She opened the window to air out the place and admired the starry sky. When she reached for another candle to light, it was when she saw her.

“Isobel!,” Sypha called, just loud enough in the silence.

The girl did not answer. Sypha left the bedroom again and climbed down the stairs tantivy to meet her. When she left through the front door, Isobel had crossed the street and looked at an owl on the neighboring roof. Sypha called her again; she heard it and turned on a scare.

“Isobel, it’s me,” Sypha crossed the street as well. 

The girl took steps backwards until she sprinted on the streets of Sohodol.  _ Dammit, what’s going on? _ Sypha followed her.

**~**

“Is it this one?”

They were standing before the loft, which was in pretty bad shape. The window of the first floor was open to the dead of the night, while all of the others on the street were closed to protect from the cold.

“Yes,” Alucard tidied up the jacket, “A sniff was enough earlier. It smells like dried blood.”

“So please, don’t lick the floor. Be my guest and climb it first.”

“I should let you climb on your own,” he gave Trevor a mean look.

Alucard gave the surroundings a last check, just to be sure, and turned into his bat form. The flight up to the window could be smoother if not for the cold wind. Already inside, he turned back and glanced at the moon, not in its full state, but giving away enough light. Trevor started his climb by the pane of a window on the ground floor, stretched his hand for a decoration on the wall and made himself stable. When he reached for a next stone, he lost balance and had himself hanging by an arm.

“Sludge,” he whispered to complain.

“I’m cheering for you,” Alucard observed him with a sarcastic smile while he lit up one of the candles that Trevor handed him along the way.

Just a bit more and Trevor could stretch his hand to be pulled inside the house, and he was heavier than Alucard expected.

“You should’ve left this massive cloak in the bedroom, don’t you think? Don’t take advantage of my good will.”

“Come on,” Trevor snorted, “Wait, how did you light this thing? I have the flint on me.”

Alucard snapped his fingers to create a small flame:

“I was never exceptional with fire, but it’s enough to light things up.”

“Very handy. And what do we have here?” Trevor closed the window, which had a busted lock.

Alucard raised the candle to see several other candles on branch lights, transparent jars with animal parts, indecipherable coal drawings and scribbles on the walls, spread books of all sizes, both open and closed, and said blood stain on the floor.

“It’s human blood. No, I don’t need to taste it to know that,” he rebutted and started to rummage through the piles of books.

“And here we have a whole reason for a crippled burglar. What a beautiful room,” Trevor walked around, “We should look for something that takes us to the… Lousy occultists.”

“Indeed, low class ones. Check this out.”

Alucard picked up one of the books for which he had squinted his eyes to read and Trevor got closer to read the title, laughing with scorn.

“Geez, the biggest charlatan in all of Europe. I’ve never read any worse.”

“I know. And what do you think of this one?” he changed it for another book that was especially beat-up.

“It looks like an old rug. Let’s see.”

Under the candlelight, Alucard read in a quiet voice:  _ “June Five recev. call do not give info. except to spec. cont…,” _ said the first line of the diary.  _ I can infer what it means, but it doesn’t make much sense anyway.  _ Alucard put his hand on his chin. He skipped to a forward page to notice a worse handwriting, and hardly read:  _ “August 21 wait f. answ. done necess. corresp. organ. f…,” _ he stopped.  _ “aut? oct?”  _ He handed it to Trevor.

“Can you tell what’s here?” he pointed to the end of the sentence.

“‘Aut’ as in ‘autumn’? ‘Oct’ as in October? It’s October already,” Trevor frowned.

“That must be it,” Alucard skipped to recent pages.

_ “October 3 arriv. visit.,”  _ said the first entry of the month,  _ “exec. final plan.”  _ He flipped to the end of the written pages to find out a ripped out one.

“How convenient,” Trevor rolled his eyes.

“Where do you think it is?”

“Either those two took it, or they got rid of it, Did you see any paper on the street?”

“To be honest, I didn’t,” Alucard closed the book.

“Heaven knows where this thing is. But it must be the key.”

They both sighed, hopeless. Alucard put the candle on the table and put away some of the books to reveal a thin sheet spread on the surface, that wa about to roll up without the weight of the paper on top of it. It held a draft of something close to a human face.

“And what is this?” inquired Alucard.

“Besides some crazy stuff?” Trevor thought for a bit, “It depends. I think it’s not a mask. The registrar takes walks on the woods, right? He’d better be recognized. There’s no reason for it to be a mask. 

Trevor mindlessly opened the first drawer of the table, and it contained a real-size wooden replica of the drawing.

“Or maybe it is a mask,” Alucard laughed.

**~**

_ She’s so fast. _ Sypha panted.  _ If I didn’t want to draw attention, I wasn’t very lucky. _ Running after Isobel seemed endless. The race took them both to the town’s bulwark, where there was a crack; it was small enough not to be fixed, but big enough for a kid her size to trespass. _ Dammit. _ The girl climbed up to it, quick as a squirrel, and passed through the break.  _ She’ll get hurt if I rise up an ice wall. _

Sypha propelled herself up with the wind in order to jump over the bulwark, and in her mix of atterrissage and fall, she rolled on the ground and the grass. She lit up a flame on her hands and got up, dusting off the cloak. She saw Isobel’s figure in a distance, picking up something from the floor and heading to the dense forest, much slower than before.

“You’re not getting away,” Sypha smiled.

She jumped with the wind towards Isobel and grabbed her, softening the impulse of both with the same breeze. Sypha sighed of relief. Isobel threw a tantrum and tried to set herself free at every cost, without saying a word, just crying and shouting.

“Chill, it’s me. From this afternoon. Don’t you remember me?”

Isobel went into an endless crying jag, and Sypha used all the force she had to keep her still.

“Wait,” she noticed.

Sypha observed under the flame light the girl’s dental arch, noticing a missing teeth among the incisor teeth.  _ There’s no blood, so there’s no way it happened now. _

“You’re not Isobel?”

When she heard the name, the girl’s cries ceased little by little. She tried to reach for the fire, marvelled, and Sypha took it back.

“Don’t touch it. No,” she gave her a severe stare, “Or I’ll put it out.”

Sypha waited patiently until things calmed down. The unknown girl sat on the floor, holding tight onto something.

“What’s that with you?” Sypha stretched her hand, “Can you show me?”

The girl flinched.

“Please, I’d really like to see what it is.”

She opened her small hand and it showed a blade without a handle, covered on the dull tip with a fabric or a piece of leather.

“You can’t keep this. Give it to me,” Sypha saw the girl hiding the object, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

She tried to get it anyway, and the child started crying all over again. Sypha sighed:

“It’s fine, keep it. Just be careful, right? Let’s go home.”

They held hands, even if the girl did it reluctantly, and she said nothing along the way. Sypha tried to ask her name, where did she leave and how old she was with no success, so she followed alongside her in a similar silence. The girl looked around with fearful eyes, sometimes letting out an incomprehensible sound or two. As they got closer to the tavern, she relaxed and said something Sypha could not pick up either, looking at the girl with questions, more than answers.  _ Well, this is where I found her. _

When Sypha pushed the tavern’s door, the torches in the hall showed Isobel and her mother in front of the counter, both of them full of beer mugs in their hands. They looked at the entrance with incredulous faces. The keeper crossed the tables full of drunkards in the middle of the hall and grabbed the little girl by an arm with the other hand.

“Where did you find her?” the lady roared at Sypha, “What were you doing with my daughter?”

The whole place stopped talking to see what was going on. Sypha froze in place without an answer. Isobel approached with timid steps after getting rid of the mugs and the duplicate Sypha found on the street left her mother to hug her. 

“You know she disappears like that, Mom. I think the miss just did us a favor.”

_ They’re twins.  _ Sypha laughed up her sleeve, slightly shocked. Isobel whispered something to her sister, that started looking at the Speaker with far less fear.

“Her name is Izidor,” Isobel said, “She doesn’t speak. Excuse me, Mom.”

The young keeper took her sister to the back of the building, and the mother stopped snorting, apparently ashamed of the agitation. The customers went back to their own conversations and the buzz of the tavern covered up their dialogue.

“Don’t cause me any more problems, you three,” the woman grumbled.

“I mistook her for Isobel. I’m deeply sorry for any trouble, ma’am.”

“Hmph,” she called Sypha to a more discreet corner with a hand gesture, and spoke quieter, “Isobel tells the truth. Izidor leaves like that, she hides in the woods, she brings weird things home. How many times, when my husband was alive, I have lost days of labor trying to find her. But God wouldn’t give me my daughter if she wasn’t to be mine.”

_ Bless her. _ Sypha smiled with as much sympathy she had and wished:

“I wish the same God will look after your family, ma’am. Izidor was really going into the forest. It’s dangerous, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to think about it, miss,” the woman crossed her arms and looked elsewhere, as if she had never said those words before, “Thanks for bringing my girl back. If I can do something, come tell me.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Sypha left her to the tavern and headed to the back of the building, where Isobel waited for her while she toyed with a small rock with her feet, alone as well.

“Is Izidor alright?” Sypha asked.

“Oh. Hi,” she looked at Sypha and scratched her own head, “Actually, I think she hurt an arm. Nothing more than that.”

Sypha felt she was to blame. Before she could apologize, Isobel asked:

“I didn’t tell you we’re twins, right?”

“No, but no problem. It was but a misunderstanding.”

“Mom wouldn’t let me out of the kitchen, until we missed my sister. She almost always comes back when it’s still day, but at night like this, she gets lost,” Isobel looked worried, “Well, I think anyone gets lost at night.”

They had a laugh together. Sypha kneeled to talk to her:

“Secret, remember?”

“I do,” Isobel made a cross with her fingers over her mouth.

“I need to talk to your uncle. He’s a guard, isn’t he?”

“He is, but I think he’s on duty today. Why do you need it?”

“I can’t tell you. But, please, ask your mom.”

“You aren’t letting the burglar out, are you?” Isobel scratched her head.

“No, no way,” Sypha laughed.

“I’ll go talk to Mom.”

“Thank you very much, dear.”

Isobel left before her mother called her again, and that was when Trevor and Alucard jumped from the roof. Sypha was startled, since she almost took a step forward.

“You almost gave me a heart attack! Whose idea was this?” she backed off.

“Sorry, darling,” Trevor held her, “We heard you getting closer and remembered last minute we weren’t supposed to show up.”

“Great,” she let out, not feeling great, “The news, please.”

“The house was a hot mess, a suspicious and bloody hot mess,” Alucard enumerated, “Not a clue on where did those screws go. We found a wooden mask… And this.”

He gave Sypha the addled book, that she opened to find pages full of dates and abbreviated entries.  _ Interesting. _

“I’ll read it carefully soon,” she closed the book, “I had Isobel talk to her mother on the jail thing. But not without a bit of a muddle.”

“What kind of muddle are we talking about?” Trevor frowned.

“Let’s climb up to the bedroom, I’ll tell you there,” she routed them, “Maybe I need a seat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I might share a fact, the "autumn/October" part by the middle of the chapter is a translation fix I had to make up in order to save some of the original meaning. In Portuguese, "autumn" is "outono" and "October" is "outubro", so they both start with the same letters, and the abbreviation of "outubro" is "out.", anyway. As the occultists have a habit of abbreviating words in their journal entries, Trevor and Alucard could interpret it either way. But since "AUTumn" and "OCTober" don't have a close spelling as "OUTono" and "OUTubro", that's how I worked around it: bad handwriting. If you mess up a lower case "a" and turn a "c" 90 degrees to the left, it might look like an "u". Just translation things, I guess.  
I hope both the chapter and the fact were interesting, see you soon.


	4. Deadly nightshade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's anticipated, but happy holidays, everyone. If you don't get any gifts, this is mine for you. I hope you enjoy the chapter.

In the candlelit bedroom, once quiet, Sypha made a comment:

“The things they wrote here… Check this out.”

She handed the open book to Alucard, both sitting on the bed, while Trevor took a nap facing the wall. Alucard read on a quiet voice:  _ “Imperf. mask. improp. mater. Need + noble. Unhappy objective.” _

“Hmm, I almost forgot about this… Thing,” he got a bag that hanged on his belt.

“Thing?” She asked, “Oh. Sure.”

Sypha let out a disgusted laugh when she saw the rustic wooden mask, with slits for eyes, nose, and mouth.

“It’s not a work of art, sure,” he agreed, “According to the journal authors, then, this thing is useless.”

“Perhaps they made another. Or more than one,” she thought out loud.

“Unhappy object… What do you think?”

“I think they tried to please someone with masks of a specific material. ‘More noble’, I think it says.”

There were knocks on the door. Sypha told them to come in and Isobel opened it, with a candle holder in hand.

“Mom told me to call you,” she whispered, “My uncle is on duty on the bulwark and she’ll take you there.”

Sypha woke Trevor up, and he muttered something about not being asleep. The three were soon ready and followed Isobel downstairs. The tavern was still crowded, despite the time of the night. The owner waited for them on the ground floor with a lit lamp, wearing a ton of clothes and with the same unkind expression.

“I hope you’re not up to something,” she grumbled when they were out in the cold of the night.

**~**

No one talked along the way to the bulwark. They walked until a sentry-box was to be seen from a distance, lighted on the top of it and over the other gate of Sohodol, instead of the one they entered the town. Someone in it caught sight of their lights and showed a lamp, screaming to ask who was there.

“It’s me, Carlo,” the lady shouted just as loud, “Get down here.”

“I can’t just leave my shift just because you said so,” Carlo answered with another cry.

Windows around opened, nearing residents complained and Trevor dodged a rotten apple thrown from above.

“Hurry up, we need to talk to you,” the woman called again, in the same tone.

It took some time until the guard climbed down the stairs, and he did so without a lantern. He got closer to the group rubbing his face with his hands, with an incoming yawn. He looked closer in age to the tavern keeper, denounced by his salt-and-pepper, receding hair and his beard.

“What’s going on to get me out of there this time of the night?” He asked his sister.

“The outsiders here want to talk to you,” she looked at them with contempt, “It’s no good deed, I guess, but I owe the lady a favour, since she took Izidor home.”

Carlo checked them out from head to toe, just like most of the population and the sellers, and set his eyes on Trevor, asking:

“Do I know you, fellow?”

“Who, me?” Trevor pointed at himself.  _ Shit, _ “No, I don’t believe so.”

The guard took the lantern from his sister’s hand and got the light closer to Trevor’s face, who asked:

“Don’t set me on fire, please.”

“Ain’t you the son of the old Belmont?”

_ That’s all I needed.  _ He gritted his teeth. Carlo laughed.

“Who would say,” Carlo stepped backwards, with a broad smile, “Your father saved me when I was a boy. You, maybe, weren’t born yet. I insisted on going to the woods, even if my old mother told me not to, and I drew the attention of a wild boar. Boys will be boys, you know? I threw a rock at it. And it was a small one, bear in mind, but the damage it’ll do… And, lucky me, they were hunting arount there, those relatives of yours. It was an accurate crossbow shot. They were kind enough to give us the meat and take me home.”

“That’s good to hear, sir,” Trevor felt the blood coming back to his face.

“What do you need, though?” Carlo asked.

He hesitated for a while, and, in the end, told him the truth:

“We’re looking for the missing registrar and his visitor, sir. I’ve got a hound nose for trouble. Just a family thing,” Trevor laughed, sarcastic, “We think the arrested burglar may know something.”

“Nothing, Belmont. We’ve tried. He just swears to God he didn’t kill them, and he doesn’t know where did they go. That he wanted only the house’s loot. But I thank you for your effort.”

“Didn’t the burglar carry any belongings with him?” Trevor frowned and crossed his arms.

“Just small things of small value, a knife, a piece of paper and nothing more but the clothes on his back. I didn’t read the paper. I was never taught how to.”

“What’s on the paper, perhaps, looks like any of this book?” Sypha showed him the open diary.

Carlo got the lamp closer to see it, scratched his head, and answered:

“I’d say yes, miss.”

_ It’s the missing page. _ Trevor looked at the other two, and they seemed to agreed.

“Finish this. Isobel is waiting tables for me, but today’s a busy day,” the tavern keeper grunted.

“Well, what I can do is giving you the sheet,” Carlo handed the lantern back to his sister, “And there’s an awaken guard in the prison, for sure. But I suggest that the ladies head back home. It’s not the best place for you.”

Trevor held back an ironic grimace, and looking aside, he saw Sypha doing the same.  _ Little they know, the mere mortals. _

“I can escort them on their way back,” Alucard said, “Trevor, can you take care of what’s in the prison?”

“So be it,” Trevor sighed.

“Don’t take too long,” Sypha kissed him on the cheek before they left.

Carlo asked when they walked to the town hall:

“For how long have you been around here, Belmont?”

“Uh, some days, I guess?” He was vague on purpose, “We’re just passing by, sort of aimlessly.”

“By any chance, does your friend there…”

Trevor decided to interrupt him:

“The guy, you mean? He’s healthy as a horse. He just looks like a walking candle anyway.”

Carlo laughed and went on:

“He sure does. I mean, in the sentry-box, much is heard about many things.”

“Uh-huh,” Trevor frowned.

“Where does the gentleman live?”

“Not very far from here, but he barely leaves his property. He’s sort of… A shut-in. Strange fellow.”

“I see. What’s wrong with him?”

_ What a curious guy, geez. _

“He’s… New around. He lost his parents, inherited some land, sold everything and left. He isn’t in his shiniest spot lately.”

_ Half a truth will do. _ Carlo looked like he tried the flavor of what Trevor said and reasoned it to be true:

“I understand it. Grieving is tough. I wish him well.”

When they arrived the town hall, Trevor was invited in after the doors were unlocked.

“I believe you don’t want to talk to the jailed man now,” Carlo put away the keys, “We’ll soon decide what will be done of him. Is it enough to check his belongings?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wait for me here, I’ll get them.”

The guard disappeared to somewhere Trevor could not tell. He sat on the floor and waited until the footsteps came back from the deserted corridor. Trevor stood up.

“We gave the jewelry to the church. There are still coins we didn’t count, and said piece of paper,” Carlo handed him a fabric bag that was not too big.

“I also found…,” Trevor searched some more after finding the sheet and took out an object he saw under the lamp light, “A dagger?”

“Keep it, if it’s even sharp,” the guard shrugged.

Trevor stared at the knife and attached it to his belt.  _ One more to the collection. _ Carlo suggested that they left, and so they did. Before he locked the door, he said:

“You know, since you’re involved in those stuff, Belmont, I advise that you talk to the man down there.”

“What for, if he doesn’t know a thing?” Trevor crossed his arms and looked to another side.

“Not because of that. In the first days, nothing strange happened. After that, the guy started talking in his sleep, and now, he screams things no one understands. It kind of looks like he’s possessed, God forbid.”

_ Intriguing. _ Trevor looked at Carlo again:

“So, should I come tomorrow?” he frowned.

“As you wish. If I’m not on duty, tell them you came in my name.

**~**

Sypha looked to the unpleasant tavern keeper for the umpteenth time and sighed. She also glanced at Alucard, that did not start a conversation just as herself, and she had a suspicion he was going through the same.  _ We could’ve talked about the case all along the way. Luckily, we must be almost there. _

The lady opened the tavern’s door and roamed by the tables after she left the lamp on the counter. A drunk, heavy man stood up at the same time and bumped onto the counter, almost making the candle fall to the ground, and Alucard was fast enough to grab it before the flame touched anything.

“Be careful, friend,” he patted the dizzy man on the shoulder.

They headed upstairs and entered the bedroom. Sypha lit up the candle again and went on reading the confusing diary, sitting on the bed, as Alucard occupied the chair.  _ I’d love this thing to make some sense. _ Sometimes, she tooks her eyes off the book and found Alucard gazing at the starry night through the window, with his chin on his hand.  _ I won’t the one disturbing him. _ Every new page of the book, however, had the handwriting become less and less comprehensible. She would waste three or four reading attempts to decipher a line of text, until, in the end, she decided to chat:

“Where do you think they are?”

“The missing men?” Alucard looked at her, then to the ceiling, “If they left on horses, they might be far from here. But the stable boy said nothing about seeing them.”

“And if they are on foot, they aren’t so far from here,” Sypha closed the book, marking it with a folded page, “Reading this, I don’t really believe they reached the point of magic transportation.’

“And I think you’re right,” he laughed, “They were mediocre even when dealing with things they shouldn’t. So, they can’t open portals or fly.”

“Anyways. A thing here stuck out, see this.’

Sypha stood up and walked to the bed end, closer to Alucard’s chair. She opened the book, and he also squinted his eyes to read:

“What a difficult handwriting, damn.  _ ‘Try nº1. Failure. Unsuc. transm.’ _ , is that what it says?”

“Exactly. About the rest…,” Sypha got the book back, “ _ Try nº2. Failure Unsuc. transm. Try nº3…’ _ and so on till the number ten.  _ ‘Failure. Insuf. form.’ _ Formula? Format? Formation?”

“It has to do with the passage about the mask, perhaps.”

“Maybe, if ‘transm’ stands for ‘transmutation’. I remember reading about ‘noble material’...,” she turned pages until she found the part and read it out loud, with the book on her lap,  _ ‘Imperf. mask. improp. mater. Need + noble. Unhappy objective.’ _ ”

“Following that reasoning, they wanted to transmute something into something nobler in order to make a mask and please someone,” Alucard scratched his chin, “If I’m allowed to guess, it must be from a metal to gold. Do people still believe this through chemical means? They are worse than I thought.”

Sypha took a while to process that information and asked:

“Wait, you can’t do that?”

“Uh. No,” he said, with a pause, “Well, probably, it’s either iron or lead. They’re easy to obtain.’

“Iron…,” Sypha had an insight, “The backdoor screws!”

“It’s pretty possible. Very good conjecture.”

She smiled, thanked and got half a meter closer, dragging herself on the bed end.

“But, wait,” Sypha tapped with a finger on the back of the book, “If it isn’t possible to make gold out of another metal, why the tenth try was ‘insufficient’ instead of ‘unsuccessful’?”

“Maybe because they might’ve done something that gave them hope, but not enough for a full mask.”

She noticed Alucard’s expression getting softer, and his stare getting lost.  _ What’s wrong with you? _ , she had the brief impulse to ask, but changed her approach:

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m trying to remember a chemical reaction,” he put his hand on his lips, “It would be easier if I were in the laboratory.”

“It’s a shame it’s not possible to bring it here anymore,” Sypha smiled half-heartedly.

“I’ll take you both to it when we’re back. I believe you’ll appreciate the visit.”

Sypha widened her eyes.  _ Am I dreaming? _ She almost jumped on him for a thankful hug when Trevor opened the door wide with a slam.

“Enough startling me for today, for God’s sake,” she got on her feet and changed targets of the hug, “What did you find out there?”

“The missing page,” Trevor panted, “If you can read this thing.”

_ That’s it! _ He got it in his pocket and handed it to Sypha, who got it closer to the candlelight.

“Wow, it looks like a dead language. What a terrible handwriting,” she cleaned her throat, “‘ _ Last res. Zero result. Zero. recogn. Foll. trail. Predef. locat. lake. Wait remov.’ _ ”

“Last resort. Zero result, zero recognition,” Alucard tried.

“Follow trail. Predefined location lake. Wait for removal,” Trevor scratched his head, “In the woods closer to Sohodol, there is more than a lake. In the one that takes us to the Hold, there is none.”

“And what do they mean by last resort?” Alucard got up and put on the jacket.

No one answered. Trevor headed to the window:

“Let’s go.”

“Through it?” asked Sypha, “I can climb you down.”

So did she with a helping hand of the wind, and then she descended herself. She routed them to the crack on the bulwark, going forward.

“How did you find out this opening?” Trevor asked.

“With the little contretemps I had earlier,” she laughed.

**~**

_ Here it is, then.  _ The grove spread from the town walls and after the glade, and everything was silent, except for the rustling leaves, or the occasional owl hoot. Alucard looked inside himself and found no fear.  _ Why am I restless, then? _ Sypha lit up a flame and signed for them to follow her. They walked in the woods without a trail, dodging branches, roots, and stones, all of them quiet as a stone. The fire made something reflect meters ahead, and the three got closer to it. Trevor plucked out the object from the tree bark, a short blade without a handle, with the dull end wrapped with a fabric.

“I’ve seen one like this earlier,” observed Sypha, “Izidor got it from the floor.”

“Do you think there are more around here?” Trevor put it in his pocket.

“If the book really said ‘follow the trail’, they might lead to one, yes,” she nodded.

The went ahead searching for more of those signs and it was not hard to find the next one. They stabbed particular trees, too thin or too broad, too tall or too short, on cracked and knocked stumps, always on open, visible spaces.  _ Bad occultists, but clever men. _ Alucard looked to the sky and the amount of stars he could see:

“The nearest lake is in what cardinal point, Trevor?”

“It’s northwest, if I’m not mistaken,” he rested leaning back on a tree, panting.

“This is not taking us northwest. How many lakes there are in this grove?”

“Sorry, it’s been more than a decade I’m not around.”

“Make a little more effort,” Alucard put his hands in his pockets.

“Wait, where’s Sypha?”

They looked around and did not find her. She turned around a tree, far by some meters, and called them loud and clear:

“There’s a rut here. Is it a lake?”

Alucard and Trevor looked at each other and followed her. On another tree trunk, she caught sight of something else and got the fire closer to it:

“This is a…”

“...A heart,” Trevor stepped forward and saw the organ stabbed with one of the demarking blades.

“And why do I think it is from the gargoyle you took care of?” Alucard frowned.

“Because it’s dark, huge, and it’s still beating,” Trevor pulled the steel stake and the heart fell on the foliage, leaving a blood trail as it fell, “If there is a brighter side to it, at least, I think the two sweethearts have been here.”

They finishing climbing down the rut up to the lake’s shore and circled around it. It was small and surrounded by stones, pine trees and deciduous trees, their yellowed leaves covering the ground.

“Light it up, Sypha,” asked Trevor.

She created tall flames towards the sky, that passed the trees’ height by an amount.

“Too bright?” Sypha laughed.

“No. There’s something that way. I think we found them,” Alucard pointed at the other shore.

Then, Sypha made a bridge of thick ice to the other side, that they crossed carefully, one at a time.

“We did,” Trevor sighed.

Alucard was the last one to arrive the shore and the smell of putrefaction reached his nose. The hooded men had their faces covered by metallic golden masks. He kneeled to remove them, revealing two unknown faces with their lifeless eyes open.

“They’re made of lead, I believe,” he showed the masks to the other two, “But it’s golden. Nice try.”

“What are you talking about?” Trevor asked.

“Lead iodide. It fooled me once when I was a kid,” Alucard half-smiled, “It creates a beautiful golden reaction in a laboratory glass. I don’t advise that you touch it.

“Is it toxic, by any chance?” Sypha dimmed the lights.

“Yes, and in great amount, it can harm one’s intellect. It makes sense that both of them had that awful handwriting. Also, check this out.”

He got one of the corpse’s hands and raised it with some hardship to show the palm with a knife wound.

“His companion also has one on the same left hand. This gentleman is pretty cold,” Trevor had crouched besides the body, “It’s a deep wound. This must explain the stain on the room’s floor.”

“I found this, too,” Sypha showed up with a flask, that she opened and smelled, “It’s deadly nightshade tea.”

“Can I try it?” Trevor stretched his hand, and she poured the content in the lake, “I’ll get it as a ‘no’.”

“This is what killed them. Want a sip?”

“What would be of me if it weren’t for you, right?” he gently held her shoulder and kissed her face.

“It’s dangerous if made from the root. That’s what I suspect” Sypha dropped the flask on the floor.

The three went quiet and there was only the howl of the wind on the leaves.  _ There’s not much more to do here. _ As if she read his thoughts, Sypha said:

“Let’s go back.”

“Yeah,” Trevor walked ahead, “This is not a place where I’d like to spend the night.”

Alucard stared at the two yellowish masks.  _ These are coming with me. _

**~**

They climbed to the bedroom through the window left open when they left. Sypha snuggled with Trevor, but her sleep seemed to shy away from her. When her hopes of having someone to talk to were almost none, she saw Alucard’s silhouette moving in bed, facing the other way.

“Are you awake?” she tried.

“Pretty much.”

“How are you?”

He took a while to answer:

“I have lots of questions.”

“I think we all do,” Sypha sighed, “I’m taking the journal with me.”

“Do it. It might be useful.”

“I almost forgot it,” Trevor showed up in the living world, “I’ll pay a visit to the jail in the morning. The guard told me strange things about the prisoner. He talks in his sleep. Just as I do now.”

He yawned and hugged Sypha.  _ I love you, too. _

“Is it enough space?” Alucard asked, “It’s not the biggest of beds.”

“It is, don’t worry,” she dug the pillow with her face.

_ I’ve snoozed in carriages and alleys with other fifteen people. This looks like a palace. _ She smiled alone in the dark of the bedroom and glanced at Alucard, still with his back to her, and she could see nothing but a contour.  _ And you, did you sleep alone all your life? _ She snuggled some more, without an answer.

**~**

The dawn of the new day was grey and chilly. Trevor opened his eyes without a trace of sleepiness and let Sypha go carefully.  _ She won’t wake up, but still. _ He told her an unheard goodbye petting her hair and left without the keys. In the tavern’s hall, the grumpy woman had stale bread and beer to serve. He ate and drank asking himself what time was it, since no one besides him was there.

He left being embraced by his fur cloak, his old, loyal companion, towards the town hall. The new guard at the door to ask him what he wanted.

“I come in the name of Carlo. He allowed me to talk to the burglar prisoner, arrested a while ago. He said it’s urgent.”

“It’s a pity, sir.”

“Excuse me?” Trevor felt his stomach as ice.

“Was he a relative of yours?”

“I have no idea who he is. What happened?”

“The burglar died last night.”

_ Shit. _ The news were swallowed dry. Trevor asked:

“Could I see the cell, sir?”

“If you wish. Carlo will hear about this.”

“Whatever.”

The guard and Trevor left the door and he was guided to the back of the town hall, where there was an open trapdoor. They climbed down the stairs lowering their heads and walked through the stone corridor, lighted by torches. There were only four cells, in a town that saw little crime, and in two of them, there were living, quiet men to see them pass by. The airless underground was suffocating. In the end of the short corridor, another guard stood up and nodded to the one from the doors, then staring at Trevor with unfamiliarity. In the last cell of the right, there lied a body with a dilacerated neck and open eyes; the burglar’s hands were down to the quick, and he was thrown into a puddle of blood. On the wall, there was a writing of the same red, of the word “Ploiesti”. The guard from the door made the sign of the cross.

“The scariest, sir,” he said, with a hint of fear, “is that he couldn’t even read.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story arc was inspired by the [Brazilian Lead Masks Case](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lead_Masks_Case), as some of you may have recognized. What do you think of its medieval/Renaissance version? 
> 
> Don't forget, I'm still open to constructive criticism on any topic, but especially when it comes to this being the English version. If you stumble upon something strange, don't hesitate to drop a comment.


	5. Quarrel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to update this yesterday, but forgive me and my holiday break. 
> 
> CONTENT ALERT, PLEASE READ: as you may have noticed, there was an addition of tags a while ago. From this chapter on, the story becomes more serious addressing mental health issues, including but not limited to symptoms of depression and suicidal thoughts. Keep in mind that, in that time period, there were no therapists or many types of treatment, and that is also a central point of the story. If you are susceptible to this type of content or are going through rough times, I strongly advise that you don't read it.

The city guard removed the two bodies still in the morning. The three went ahead, pointing the demarcations on the way, and it was way easier to find the blades, which reflected the little sunlight there was. Trevor heard Sypha and Alucard’s conversation on distilling alcohol from wine, but did not meddle in it, even if he would appreciate a chat on throwing potions. He had already updated them on what happened in the prison, and the news were not received with much shock.  _ Maybe because they haven’t seen what I saw.  _ He sighed.  _ Ploiesti? _ The city was once big and prosper. How would it be after the hordes of night creatures? The suddenly literate dead man poked his imagination.

“Is everything alright?” Sypha held his arm.

“As much as possible,” he smiled.

She said no more, but did not let go of him.  _ It’s been so little time, and you already know me so well. _

As the grove had an end and the glade close to Sohodol began, Carlo waited for them, receiving and giving orders from a side to another. A group of curious people formed, and he dismissed them with some politeness and no success. When he saw them, he gave Trevor and Sypha an intrigued look.

“We don’t know how you’ve done it, but we also don’t know how to thank you,” Carlo said when they got closer, “The families will have bodies to bury, at least.”

“The registrar had no family, though, right?” Trevor frowned.

“Right. He was old enough to be my father, and to be getting senile. He was unpredictable. He never wanted to marry. Sometimes, he didn’t even go to work, and sometimes, he locked himself in the office for three days straight.

_ So, the lead and the deadly nightshade were consuming him for a good while now. _ Sypha said she would leave a bit, and Trevor glanced at her talking to Isobel in the forming crowd.

“Carlo, is there something else I should know?”

“On the two in the forest, or about the cell?” he crossed his arms.

“Both things.”

Carlo looked up, then he looked down, then answered:

“The masks were made of lead, you said? The town hall really missed some plumbing.”

“You’d better get rid of all of the plumbing, actually. I don’t believe you want to end up like the registrar.”

“But was it the lead, for sure?” Carlo scratched his head.

“Not just the lead. They were consuming some deadly nightshade, and that’s how they ended up killing themselves. But telling how exactly they got crazy…”

“Well, it’ll be a shame,” Carlo shrugged, “I’ll talk to the mayor. I doubt he’ll want to change the faucets for getting water from the well.”

“And the jailed man, sir?”

“After the help you gave the town, you are my sir,” he joked, “The jailed man made some enemies because he talked in his sleep, that’s true. But none of them confessed killing him, and I don’t think they’re lying. The guard there would’ve missed the key.”

“And was he strangled?”

“That’s what it looks like. His neck looks terrible, and he skinned his fingers writing on the wall, God knows how. He was illiterate as I am.”

Trevor sighed, tired, and thanked:

“It’s time we leave. Peace.”

“Sohodol thanks you. You’re welcome here” Carlo got closer and whispered, patting his shoulder, covered with the fur cloak, “Belmont or not.”

**~**

Isobel sat on the edge of the bed and Sypha was on the chair. She ripped blank pages from the scrounged journal and asked the girl for a piece of coal. She wrote the alphabet in order, as well as she could with an improvisation like that. They spent the rest of the morning there, dirtying their hands and repeating letters, correcting and restarting. Isobel was as sharp as she looked like. She did not take long to learn the vowels, and was pretty well with the consonants for a first day. 

“But don’t tell anyone. Promise?” Sypha gave her the pinky finger.

“Promise,” Isobel retributed and they tied fingers, “Can I teach my children?”

“Yes.”

“And Izidor?”

“If she can learn it, maybe.”

“She understands what I say,” Isobel crossed her legs on the bed, “She just doesn’t speak.”

“Perhaps it is a way for her to speak,” Sypha smiled.

“That’s true.”

The door opened and Alucard entered the bedroom chewing on a big slice of bread.

“What are you two doing?” he ran his eyes over the table, “What a great idea. Are you having fun?”

“A lot of fun, sir.”

“You’ll have to study hard on your own,” Sypha gave her the sheets, “Now, go. I don’t want you to be scolded because of me.”

They stood up, and Sypha hugged Isobel, who said:

“See you another day, ma’am.”

_ Another day? _ Sypha sighed.  _ I don’t know. _ The girl left without looking back. Alucard started picking up the few belongings of the short trip and Sypha tagged along to help. They climbed down the stairs to find Trevor kind of ready, stainding by the door and drinking with a distant gaze.

“It’s already paid,” Trevor finished the mug.

“How, if we have the money?” Alucard frowned.

“Argue with her, not with me” Trevor pointed at the tavern keeper, who cleaned the counter, “If you want to spend more than the storage fee, go ahead.”

“That’s pretty unlikely,” Sypha whispered, “That’s because I rescued Izidor?”

“It must be,” Trevor left the mug on a table and opened the door, letting the others leave first.

Passing by the gates of Sohodol that took them to the trail to the Hold, they heard a cry of  _ “Sir!” _ in a boy’s voice. The stable boy ran to the three and, panting, he said:

“It’s good that I found you, sir,” he talked to Trevor, “The boss told me to take you all if it’s a near destination.”

“It’s the same as before. It ain’t far.”

“Oh… Well,” the boy swallowed dry, “I’ll prepare the horses. Do you wait, sir? Or are you in a hurry?”

“Are we?” Trevor looked around, “No. But taking us, you mean…?”

“That’ll be on us, sir.”

_ Is it a lucky day? _ Sypha sat on the back of the covered wagon, looking at the grey sky when the vehicle rode the trail from the farms to the next grove. Trevor rested his head on her lap, and she caressed his hair along all of the way. He wanted no chit-chat when she mentioned the idea of going to the laboratory later, bot she was sure to see him smile. Alucard, though, was the greatest enigma: he sat besides the young coachman, making the boy uneasy.  _ The people don’t understand. _ She daydreamed. _ Someday, they will, maybe. _

**~**

“Here, at this part.  _ ‘Partner arrival, superior orders’ _ ,” Sypha turned the book so Alucard could see it, “It’s more readable and coherent than most of the stuff here.”

“The lead had not gone very deep into them, I believe,” he scratched his chin.

“Or the deadly nightshade. What about  _ ‘superior orders’ _ ?”

The three went quiet. They were in the comfortable meeting room, each one in a different armchair. Trevor was lying down, and the other two just sat. Sypha went on reading:

“ _ ‘Orders of improvement and comprehension. Transcendence’ _ . Someone was out there telling them what to do, of course.”

“And they probably wanted to please that person,” stated Trevor, “It ain’t hard to drill things into the minds of people like them, I guess.”

“What about ‘transcendence’? Transcend to what?” she asked.

“To become something?” tried Alucard, “Anyway, if you allow me an exaggeration, yesterday was a long day and I want the excess of another bath. Excuse me.”

He got up and disappeared into the hugeness of the castle.  _ I don’t know if that’s any true, but… _ Trevor appreciated when he did not need to call Sypha to join him in the sofa, lying down as he was.

“There’s not much space here,” she commented.

“The closer, the better, don’t you think?”

Sypha laughed when she was turned, pulled closer, and kissed. The hands ran freely little by little. Trevor whispered:

“How I miss being on our own.”

“I know, right?” she went to the top, “But isn’t it better that we head to the bedroom?”

“This place is enormous. Who’s going to see us?”

“Who?” she frowned.

“I don’t care,” He pressed her back and slid his hand down.

“I sort of do.”

“If it’s just a ‘sort of’...,” Trevor smiled.

Sypha shook her head and kissed him again.

**~**

The footsteps from the corridor made them go back to use the sofa with the intentions it was made. More than an hour went by, maybe, before Alucard returned.  _ Thank goodness.  _ Sypha tried to comb her hair with her hands, but she did not notice Trevor having an ounce of worries with their red cheeks and wrinkled clothes.

“It’s already six o’ clock. You’re invited for dinner,” Alucard pointed at the interior of the castle with an open hand, “Invited to make dinner with me, actually, if you’re urgent about it.”

“Oh, we are,” Trevor stood up and followed him.

“I know very well what you want,” Sypha poked him on the ribs.

“Food, what else?” he was tickled.

“And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free…,” said Alucard, without looking back.

“Hey, come on, no Bible here,” Trevor objected.

The dinner that night was modest: they used the less durable vegetables and the fresh meat.  _ We have to save for the road. _ Everything was ready when it was already dark, and they ate under the candlelight and the torches on the big dining table. When Trevor finished the second mug of mulled wine, he exchanged looks with Sypha before he brought that up:

“On Ploiesti,” he began, with apparent boredom, “We should see what’s going on there.”

“How long does it take for us to get there?” Sypha asked, “Six, seven days?”

“Seven, if the road is bad, what I think it is if the weather stays like this.”

“It’s a next good stop,” Sypha looked at her half full mug, which was cool already, and suited herself with more wine, “I’ve been asking myself how the occultists’ deaths relate to the burglar.”

“‘No relation’ is my guess. They were too different. If re rely on what we found in that house, they were not powerful enough to do such a thing from a distance,” Trevor finished chewing on a chicken bone and threw it in an empty dish.

“Even moreso if they had been dead for a day or two,” Sypha rested her hand on her chin, “Unless one of them was back from the dead to get revenge for the burglary.

“To Ploiesti, then,” Trevor raised his glass for a toast.

“Have a nice trip,” Alucard, who was silent before, also did.

The conversation stopped. The other two looked at him. Sypha was brave enough:

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve talked about that already.”

“Why aren’t you coming with us?” she asked.

Before he could answer, Trevor interrupted:

“We really had that talk.”

“Exactly, and I remember being crystal clear about it. Stay for as long as you wish, or as long as you need, I appreciate it and thank you for the visit, but I won’t leave.”

“You know we came all the way here because of you,” Trevor stood up.

“And I’m giving all that I can offer.”

“Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, offering an extra pair of hands?” Trevor raised his voice, “The world ain’t very safe outside, you should check it out.”

“I trust you two to deal with whatever it is.”

“We’re not here to beg.”

“So don’t beg,” Alucard shrugged.

Sypha pressed her hands on the table.

“You would know the dimension of things if you left this place a bit more,” Trevor had disregard in his voice.

“I believe myself to be more necessary here, as I said a year ago. I have no duty to leave.”

“So, you’d rather roam through this gigantic, empty house, in a sleepless night, crying alone on the corners? Suit yourself.”

_ What? _ Sypha asked:

“What is he talking about?”

“I…,” Alucard took long to complete, “I didn’t expect this from you, Trevor.”

“And I didn’t expect from  _ you _ what you’re doing to is. Great, huh? Staying here and moping because of what happened. What are you waiting for? Something worse happening some years later, so that you leave this batcave and say ‘hello, I’ve come to fix this mess I could’ve helped avoid’?” Trevor lost control more and more in every sentence, “Stay, then. Hide as your kind does, and, someday, I swear I’ll hunt you down.”

Trevor let out a deep sigh and turned his back on him, heading towards the exit of the dining room, his footsteps echoing in the ambient.

“Please, Trevor,” Sypha made herself react, “You know what happened. This wasn’t necessary”

“Wasn’t it? I’m literally  _ on top _ of what’s left of my home. Do I need any more arguments?” no one answered, ““The three of us are missing something, but only two of us don't run away from what we have to do.”

He turned again, this time to leave.  _ Let him go.  _ Sypha lowered her head and sighed.  _ It’ll be worse if I chase him. _ When she raised her face to look at Alucard, who sat at the opposite side of the table, it was when she saw him jump over whatever was in front of him and towards Trevor.

Caught by surprise, Trevor fell on the floor and had time to protect his face. He threw hsi head to the side to dodge a punch, but Alucard held him way too hard against the wooden floor to lose balance from the push he tried, so Trevor gave him a headbutt, pulling the other with both hands on his collar. Sypha looked from a side to another and felt herself shaking, but she firmed her hands and shot a wind blast against both; Trevor, who could roll to the top, was thrown against the wall.

“Enough!,” she shouted, “Before you to something more foolish.”

Her hands started shaking again, and she lowered them. Tears started to come, and she head to hold her breath to stop herself. Trevor stood up, supporting himself on the wall with which he collided. He staggered before recovering his balance and headed to the corridor again. He looked at Alucard, still on the floor, and at her for a bit, turned to the opposite direction, and left without saying a word.

“I want to disagree with Trevor,” she confessed, as if she talked to herself, “But I can’t.”

She walked up to Alucard and offered her hand when she saw him getting up; he refused it. He did not look her in the eye, choosing any other side. He rubbed his hand on his hurt forehead to clean some blood that was not his. He did not answer her.

“I knew you weren’t quite well,” she stared at him with disapproval, “But this is-”

“You should’ve interfered.”

“I just avoided that you two killed each other.”

“You should’ve said something,” he shook his head, closed his eyes, and sighed, “You should’ve-”

“You’re not in the right to tell anyone what to do, Alucard.”

He let his hand fall, before pressing the hit part of his head, and kept quiet.

“What’s up with you?” Sypha asked in a whisper.

“You know what happened to me.”

“I don’t think that’s all of it.”

Alucard, then, looked at her, who found surprise on the little she could see from his face.  _ It’s an incredible building, but it’s not a place made for much light, exactly. _ Sypha asked:

“How do we get to that meeting room?”

“Why do you want to go there at a time like this?”

“We’ve been there much later.”

He shrugged and walked forward.

Out of the two sofas and two armchairs he could have chosen to sit, he chose the one where Trevor spread himself earlier with her. Sypha felt her cheeks getting warmer.  _ Is it on purpose? _ She sat by his side.

“If you wanted to sit down, the table was right behind us,” Alucard pointed to the back with his thumb, “Why the change of scenery?”

“Why not?” she frowned.

He did not answer and was back to being silent.

“Tell me about the year you spent here,” Sypha requested.

“As I said, I slept more than anything.”

“And what else?”

“I…,” he looked at his own hands, with his elbows on his knees, “I woke up sometimes and walked by the castle. I’ve been to the Belmont library, but you already know that.”

“And why didn’t you spent the whole time sleeping, as the time when we met you?”

“I was hurt back then, I needed to rest… To recover.

“And now, you don’t need to recover?”

“There’s no sleep in the world that’ll fix it.”

_ I know. _ Sypha put her arm on his shoulders and let him speak.

“Besides, it’s like… It’s like my sleep patterns aren’t the same anymore. When I wake up, I have no energy. It’s like I ran a marathon over Wallachia from start to finish and stopped to take a nap. My head also hurts. This time, at least, there’s a reason,” he smiled with sarcasm towards the floor, “It took me weeks for me to fall asleep again, and I still could hear the wind, the rain, the thunderstorms outside. I could ignore it before, but not now.”

“Do you usually dream?”

“Sometimes. It’s a nightmare, when I less expect it. I didn’t use to have so many.”

“Can you remember how was the last one?”

“I remember when it was. It’s… A recurring theme.”

She sighed and pressed his shoulder gently.

“I’ll go there at times. This is what Trevor was talking about,” Alucard closed his eyes, “I’ll go to the place I dream about.”

“Why do you do that?”

“I don’t know,” he had a crying voice, “To make myself suffer, I think.”

Sypha had a heartache. She repeated:

“Why?”

“Because there are days where…,” the first tear fell, “...Where I don’t want to be here.”

“Then come with us.”

“I didn’t want to be alive.”

Sypha got up and stood in front of him, kneeled on the floor, both hands on his arms.

“I wish I was dead and burned, I wish I was a pile of ashes, until nothing remained, no trace of me,” he sobbed, “And there’s an eternity ahead of me.”

Alucard cried endlessly, and she hugged him. He corresponded with his weak, shaking hands, grabbing the shirt he lent her.  _ Seeing you like that… _ Sypha also let out a tear. They only broke it apart when Alucard could breathe again.

“Hey,” she whispered, “I can’t say that I feel your pain. That wouldn’t be true. But I… I don’t have my parents either.”

“What happened to them?”

“It’s commonplace among my people. They were mistaken for thieves and murderers. A father shouldn’t have to bury a son, but that’s what my grandfather did,” she swallowed in dry, trying to stop herself from crying, “I miss them everyday.”

“My condolences.”

“Thank you,” she cleaned her face, “I still have my grandfather, and the Speakers are a family. But a person can’t replace another, right?”

She used her long sleeve to clean his face as well, and, still kneeling, she held his hand.  _ As in the day we said farewell. _

“I’m here because Trevor saved me back in the catacombs. You’re here because we met you there. He’s here because of us, otherwise, he’d be an aimless drunkard, God knows where. And we’re here and now because of you. See?”

_ That’s all we have. _ She did not state what she thought; she opted for the brighter side, going on:

“We need you. Don’t die yet.”

He held her hand tighter and sighed, staring at her as if she had answers.

“I wanna go for a walk,” she stood up, “Where can we go?”

“Trevor is waiting for you.”

“He sees me all the time. Also, he must be in a terrible mood,” she laughed out of disgust, “You told me about taking me to the laboratory, huh?”

“Are you sure this is a good time?

“Yes. Come on, show me where it is.

**~**

They arrived the laboratory after a myriad of stairs and corridors.  _ What a labyrinth. _ Alucard turned on the lights, much brighter ones than the others in the house. After her eyes got used to it, Sypha noticed how empty the room was.

“Where are all the things?”

“There was a much worse fight here,” Alucard searched the drawers, “There are still interesting items, though. I have an experiment in mind. Have you ever seen fake gold?”

“I’ve seen fool’s gold, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, it’s way more beautiful,” he smiled, going from a side to another, gathering pieces, “If it was you instead of me, you should wear protective equipment. But let’s say I’m immune to a lot of noxious things.”

Alucard set the necessary structure of glassware with a flame under one of them. He showed Sypha two closed recipients:

“This is lead nitrate, and this is potassium iodide. In hot water…,” he measured the correct amount of each with a scale, “...They’ll create a reaction.”

_ You didn’t even need to do anything for this visit to be amazing. _ Alucard poured the powdered substances into water and they waited for the solution to cool down slowly. Golden glitters appeared, falling like rain.

“And this is the substance they used to paint the masks.”

“That’s fascinating,” Sypha forgot her dropped jaw.

“Isn’t it? It fooled a good bunch of alchemists, and I believe it still does,” he put off the flame and sighed, “Trevor would’ve appreciated the visit, I think.”

“He would. The books on chemistry for beginners, down in the Hold, are his.”

“And I prevented him, by being an idiot.”

Sypha got closer and held him delicately by his arm:

“With that mood he’s now, he’d better be on his own.”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“And I don’t want you to be. I just want you to get along,” she picked up the reagent bottle, “And I don’t think this thing is over. You can always do the experiment again.”

“I sure can.”

“It’s good to see you smile again,” she let go of him.

_ It’s been a year. _ She hoped her face was not red.  _ A year you didn’t notice. _

“And it’s good to have someone that listens to me,” Alucard dimmed the lights of the stand, “Even if it’s not a new compliment.”

Sypha felt like she swallowed a thorn, and also wished it went fast down her throat:

“Thank you. It must be time for me to go.”

“Can you find your way in the house?” he headed to the door.

“No, actually.”

“Then, I go with you.”

The way back looked a good measure shorter than the way up.  _ But the return is always like this. _ When she started to recognize her surroundings, she asked:

“Are you going to sleep now?”

“No. I have to organize the things in the lab,” he looked down, “I’m not sure if apologizing is of any use.”

“It’s a good start. Good night, then?”

“Good night.”

Sypha opened the door and jumped into bed. Under the warm blankeds, she took off her shirt and hugged Trevor, who retributed with a pleasant sound.

“You took too long,” he complained.

“Are you feeling better?” she kissed his scruff.

“No.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Not much,” Trevor turned his body to hold her, “Do you still think I was over the top?”

“Yes. But I also think you’re right.”

“If you blamed me for the fight, I’d go sleep on the couch,” he let out a deep sigh, “What about Ploiesti?”

“Let’s see how things progress tomorrow. I don’t want to go without him either.”

“To be honest? After today, I seriously thought of leaving him behind.”

“Yeah, I know,” she leaned to kiss his forehead and heard a painful grumble, “Sorry.”

They went quiet for an instant, until Trevor said:

“We need a plan in case it goes wrong.”

“There’s no real way to have a plan,” she shrugged, “We go outside and see what’s going on, you and me.”

“Like before?”

“Just like before,” Sypha looked down, “Don’t you think we’re trying too hard?”

“Trying what too hard?”

“Trying at every cost that he comes with us. Maybe we’re doing more harm than good.”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” he frowned, “I really don’t.”

“I don’t know, I sort of have doubts.”

“Doubts on what?” Trevor raised his voice loud enough in the quietness of the bedroom, “If I had killed my father, I wouldn’t want to stay home. There are certain things from which we need to stay away.”

“I don’t have a house, or something to run from.”

_ Maybe I do have that something _ . She closed her eyes before her memories tormented her. With enough time, they felt tired, and slept without talking anymore.

**~**

Alucard was sleepless. Each step he took walking in the castle emitted an echo to a distant corner of a long corridor, and he knew he would not see much more than a ghost or two. The dead were not good company. He did now know where to go, but there were places he did not want to be, he could be sure of that. His feet took him to the entrance of a watchtower.  _ It’ll do no harm. _ He climbed the spiral stairs.

He looked down from the open window. There was an immensity between him and the ground. He peeked outside with his whole head, with both hands on the railing. The wind was strong, and a drizzle, that soon became heavy rain, hit him.  _ What happens if… _ He leaned some more.  _ Not much, isn’t it? _ He went back to the room and closed the window. Feeling cold from the wetness, he searched for his jacket again. He climbed down the stairs and wandered to the hall in which he once chose to sleep.

He could see the doors of the castle from there, and he got the garment from a hatstand. He looked at the casket for a long moment, from which he got up just some days ago.  _ Sleeping sounds like a nice option. But not here.  _ He did not want to be awaken, or even found.  _ I’ll have to think better. _ His body started to feel the effort of the last days, and he found himself in the meeting room where they spent the afternoon.

The old diary was on a table. He opened it and read it, sitting on an armchair. It made no sense, especially in a time like that. Pages and more pages on tests, surreal hypotheses, lunatic conjectures of those unknown and torpid men. Alucard started muttering the words on the book without understanding what they meant.  _ Am I not just as insane as they were? _ He laughed at himself.  _ I’m a tragedy. That’s what I am. An endless tragedy. _

**~**

“Wake up for once.”

The couch where Alucard napped turned all of a sudden and he went off to the floor.

“Ouch,” he hid his head, “What’s the meaning of this?”

He stood up, still with blurry eyes, and he heard a grumpy Trevor in the meeting room:

“I thought you were sharper in your sleep.”

“If you wake me up this way again, I’m beating you up for real.”

_ I’ll think of apologizing later. _ Indeed, it had been a while since the last time he had such a deep sleep. He brushed his hair off of his eye and scratched it, blinking repeated times until he could see clearly, in one of the few rooms of the castle where the sunlight could enter; it was a grey day, but bright enough to bother someone who was just asleep.

“You can be sure  _ I’m _ the one beating your ass,” Trevor patted his shoulder, “Check out what’s in front of you.”

“Tone it down, you’re insufferable. It’s too early to brag in my room.”

He did as he was told, and then he saw at the center table the finest breakfast their pantry could offer. There was tea served in good oriental porcelains, which he did not eve know where they were before, an improvisation of honey bread made in a cast iron pan, a bunch of salty oat crackers they found in Sohodol, the rest of the mulled wine, fresh water, the fruit jam he bought himself, a jar of salted butter, and a sliced sausage. Alucard had no words.

“It was her idea,” Trevor pointed Sypha, “If it was for me, I’d leave you hungry.”

“Let’s say a memorable goodbye , at least,” she smiled, and he could see she made an effort for that.

They all sat. Alucard kept quiet, listening to their conversation, noticing the details. Where was the map? How would the road be? Was it enough food? Have they counted the money? He swallowed it dry. The food disappeared from the table, and the other two started wandering back and forth in the room, with a lot of baggage to order.

“What do you think of leaving after midday and stopping in-”

“I’ll go with you.”

Sypha interrupted what she was saying, and her and Trevor staring at him with disbelief.

“Sorry?” Trevor asked.

“I’ll go with you to Ploiesti. I can’t say for after that, but for now, I’ll go.”

They did not answer. Alucard went on:

“I can still go,” he stopped, “Right?”

Before he had any reaction, Sypha jumped on him to hug him, while Trevor gave them a stinky eye. When she let go of him, Trevor helped them stand up from the couch; he held his companion by her shoulders and also held one of Alucard’s shoulders with the remaining hand, confirming:

“It’s done, then. If you change your mind, I’ll pay back yesterday’s kindness.”

“Oh, you will,” Alucard smiled with irony.


	6. Destination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2020! How were your holidays? Fine, I hope. 
> 
> Today, I will be cross-posting this story on ffnet and Nyah! Fanfiction (a Brazilian website which allows Portuguese-only material). They will follow the same update schedule I have here, and that means both new versions will start out with six chapters. In case you'd rather read in those websites, my profiles in them are [here (FFN)](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2314422/) and [here (Nyah)](https://fanfiction.com.br/u/35338/), the latter just in case you can read Portuguese. Bear in mind those are pretty old and contain not-so-good fics. lol

They left that same day, leaving to another direction; the way did not cross Sohodol. The road that connected the Hold to the main one had nobody to take care of it. After that, it was as good as the rain allowed it to be. Ploiesti was a part of the commercial route between Targoviste and Bucharest, the former being the capital and the latter a sturdy, big city they supposed it survived the attack of the hordes.  _ The people, however, are like seeds. They rise from the ground when you least expect it. _ Alucard remembered Sohodol, and tried imagining it, with no obstacles, the town made of ruin and fire, and lively in the following year.  _ Maybe if I had gone for a walk last year. _

It would take a minimum of seven days if they did not find any horses for rent, and if they did, they would arrive in five or six. The map indicated the existence of farms, taverns, and villages on the way after leaving a dense grove, but, in those circumstances, things like that came and went too fast. The road itself, to that point, had no living soul besides the three. Around the beginning of the afternoon, the walking got to them and they asked for a rest.  _ I’d go on, but I’m not passing it. _ Alucard sat with them a bit far from the roadside, perching on a tree root, one of many that would lose their leaves in that season. He saw Trevor and Sypha eating a bit of the provisions; he had no appetite to speak of. He laid his head on the tree trunk and closed his eyes, hearing the birds chirping.

Before he left, he looked himself in the mirror. The reflection did not show much besides the expected.  _ Or did it?  _ He could not spot the difference here or there. He was not the same anymore; there was no way that he could be. Maybe, that was a change that could not be seen.  _ Still, I don’t know where I ended up. _ Certainly not in Ploiesti, nor in any other city. If he was not even in the castle, then he had no idea.

After they got up from there, they walked until it was by nightfall, and so they did in the second day. Those were two nights in which Trevor and Sypha slept peacefully under the covers, and Alucard spent sleepless.  _ The night is way colder outside. _ In the light of the second bonfire, when the grove was coming to an end, he looked for the quill and the empty notebook in the baggage. He took it to Sohodol, but ruminated the idea all the time, and did not write a single line in the end.  _ But now is a good time. _ If two mad occultists could have a journal, he could, too.

_ “Right now, I find myself awaken and pretty much sleepless, in a night where I’m supposed to rest. This time has been one of extremes: either I spend months unconscious like a deadman, or I simply don’t sleep. When I get up from the occasional nap, I feel weary and worn out. You, who read these pages, may have heard of me before, but forgive me my rudeness of not introducing myself. _

_ My name is Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes, son of the deceased Dracula Vlad and Lisa Tepes. I won’t go into details of their passing, because that’s a long sad story, and one that many have heard. It is possible, though, that you don’t know everything about it. _

_ In the last days, I’ve been revisited by the people that are the closest ones to me. They are Trevor Belmont, last one of the house of Belmont, a clan that’s famous for hunting people like me, and Sypha Belnades, the Speaker in the prophecy of the Sleeping Soldier, a powerful mage and excellent listener. I like to see them side by side. Who observed them when they met would say that they look like the kind of siblings that fight all the time, but are never far from one another by two meters. They are quite different. Trevor is a loner. If not naturally one, so life made him one, and in such a profound way that it looks natural and one doesn’t even suspect he was once another way. Sypha is gregarious. She lives with and for other people, and for the greater food. About me, well, I’m not sure in which spot I am. _

_ My mother was a human, and my father was a vampire. He lived as a recluse in the last centuries, I’d say, longer before I was born. He was never fond of social meetings, if just for the social aspect. It had to have a purpose, a reason. Everything had to have a reason. Nothing was done in that house without a why. _

_ My mother shared that kind of focus, that nature, but for other reasons. She was one that would not give up, especially on the human being. She was always in the midst of people, took care of people, studied to help people. She put her hands onto everything she wanted, a thing that not many women have the chance to do, without leaving aside her role as a good wife and mother, being a person with the gift of nurture. _

_ I believe I carry a bit of both of them, but how much of each of them is hard to pinpoint. And, if we talk about a natural gift, I still don’t know mine. My mother lived for the others, for example, and that was hers. And there’s someone here and now that reminds me a lot of her. However… _ ”

He let the quill rest. The feeling that took him was new and unfamiliar. Writing about himself was not only talking about his surroundings, but involved treating himself as another person that he knew far too well. He took a deep breath and put the things back in the baggage. He walked up to Trevor and shook him by the shoulder.

“What?” Trevor asked, with the worst face in the world.

“I’d like to sleep. Do me a favor and wake up.”

Trevor stood up as slowly as he could, complaining:

“Are you really getting me out of the blankets in a night like this?”

“Sure, because I’m also cold.”

“I thought you’d stay awake,” he staggered until he sat around the bonfire.

“Sorry, I’ve been awake for almost forty-eight hours. I also thought that I could, but, surprise, I’m not right all the time.”

“You’ll pay me for that,” Trevor yawned.

“I will,” he found the third blanket and laid down alone, “If you accept a beer mug as a consolation prize.”

“We have a deal.”

**~**

In the third day, as the map predicted, they found a minuscule village, without any walls around it. An inn was by the side of the road, a small, honest one. The owner greeted him, an old man that gave them a long stare with his single eye:

“Bedrooms or horses?”

“Bedrooms first. Horses later,” Trevor put the cash on the counter, “By the way, do you have horses?”

“Oh, we do. But, right now, there are more people in the stable than horses. They didn’t wanna squeeze eight people in two beds, y’know?” the man laughed, “Here, the keys, it’s the left room. I ain’t climbing those stairs, my knee is no good today.”

The bedroom was indeed small for three people, and it had two single beds on opposite sides of the room. They left the luggage and believed the nice service, taking the vegetables to the owner downstairs so that their lunch would be cheaper, before they all went bad. He headed to the kitchen to hand them to his wife and came back drinking something from a mug. Trevor asked:

“Is that beer, sir? I would like one.”

“It’s wine. It’s the secret for good health, wine every single day. Sour wine, watered down wine, vinegar, doesn’t matter. I’m way past fifty and, let me tell you, it works. Only my eye and my knee are bad.”

“I like wine, too, if it matters.”

“A man of culture. But I’d have to sell you my own wine, if you wanted it. I’ll go get your beer.”

After the lunch made of fresh leaves with a soup of beef jerky, the three stayed by the counter, and after his third mug, Trevor and the old man were already lifelong best friends. In a moment, the man got a worn-out flask with a cork from under the counter, and poured Trevor a drink:

“Check out this one, it’s something I don’t sell to about anybody.”

“And what is it?” it did not matter, but Trevor asked anyway.

“Drink and you’ll find out.”

“Cheers, sir.”

They toasted, he drank it, and did not find it out. The spirit went down his throat like fire, but the aftertaste was a pleasant one. Trevor looked at the bottom of his mug with a frown while the old man laughed:

“Just be careful with it. It’s like a liquid flame,” he looked to Alucard and Sypha, “What about you, want a sip?”

“Yes, please,” Alucard handed him the mug.

_ Who would tell. _ Sypha also said yes to it, more timorous, and they both took it much slower. Trevor saw an opportunity and touched the subject:

“How’s Ploiesti, sir? Any news?”

“Seething with people, as always. But I don’t know if you heard of it.”

“It depends,” he finished the unknown drink.

“People die there. Just as anywhere in this world, they die. But there, they die in their sleep” the man acquired a dramatic tone, “Out of the blue, they go crazy. They say they’re being stalked, followed. That someone wants them dead. They talk in their sleep. Scream in their sleep. Walk in their sleep. Fight in their sleep! It’s a thing. And, someday, they really die. No one entered the house. No one busted any door. Wealthy or poor, with or without enemies, they just die. Some say it’s a sickness, some say it’s a Devil’s curse. I myself don’t yield an inch from here, nor my wife and boys, I won’t let them. Before, I let them go there for a dance, to chase some ladies. They can get their drinks here. But not ladies,” the old man took a last gulp and finished, “You’re headed there? Be very careful. If you spend more than a week, you might be caught.”

“We don’t intend to stay that long, don’t worry,” Trevor rested his chin on his hand.

Trevor only left the counter when he saw the other guests coming from the stable, by the beginning of the night. They were, actually, four from a group and four from another, each one with their respective covered wagons. He wanted to check if he could negotiate a ride for three in one of them, but he was refused in both. Trevor went back to his chair to tell about his frustrated initiative, that the owner of the inn tried to remedy:

“We’ve got two horses with us. They’re ours for real. They’re beauties, my boys take care of them. But we’ve also got three travellers…”

“I can go on foot,” Sypha raised her hand.

“It doesn’t make sense. You’re the lightest one of us,” argued Alucard, “I’ll go.”

“So, you want it?” the owner recalled the empty mugs, “I’ll go tell my son. They’ll be fed and saddled tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, we want them, sir,” Trevor took a sip of his new beer.

**~**

The night had already fallen and most of the guests were noisy enough so that, every now and then, a louder exclamation would be heard coming from downstairs. Trevor was among the loud dinner of the inn, and the other two had taken their food to the bedroom, looking for some silence. Sypha was entertained with a botany book she found in the baggage, taking her eyes off of the candlelit pages to glance at Alucard, who occupied the other bed. She frequently came across the question: what was going on his mind?  _ Asking is always an option. _ He had his eyes on a notebook on his legs and a quill in his hand.

“What are you writing?” She tried.

“I’ll show you when I finish another page. Deal?”

“Sure,” she frowned.

Sypha went back to the book, flipping pages without a destination, until the door opened and Trevor’s head popped in.

“Hey, you,” he pointed at Alucard, “You owe me a beer.”

“How many have you had?” Sypha asked.

“I lost track of them, sorry. But he still owes me, so, I’ll cross the line, for sure. Come here and pay for it.”

“Grab the cash in the bag,” Alucard closed his notebook.

“Don’t make me count right now, please.”

Alucard let out a displeased sound, stood up, looked for the coins in the baggage and climbed down, much to his chagrin. The door closed and Sypha did not appreciate the new quietness in the bedroom. She spent quite a long time looking at the notebook Alucard did not take with him.  _ Should I? _ The minutes passed by, and she knew they would not be back so soon. She got it from the other bed and opened it in the first pages.

Each line of the story was not as new to her, except for…  _ Excellent listener? _ She began whispering the content of what she noticed was a journal.  _ He likes to see me and Trevor, huh?  _ Reading about Alucard’s parents talked to her in a very familiar way. She smiled on her own. The handwriting was mindful and neat, easy to read, and it took her to the end in no time.

_ “There’s someone here and now that reminds me a lot of her,” _ she said to nobody.

She closed the journal before being caught in the act and left it exactly as she found it. She let herself fall on the bed, facing up.  _ Is that how it feels to be observed? _ She felt silly, as if only with her eyes closed, she could float. Sypha knew how to take first steps, to pop first questions, to give first kisses; how about receiving them?  _ I think that’s a thing of mine. _ She giggled alone staring at the ceiling and soon blamed herself.  _ What am I thinking? _ She scolded her own fertile imagination.  _ It’s not like that. It’s a journal, period. It’s got honest thoughts, that’s what it’s meant to have. _ She first sat, then stood up.  _ I’d better to another thing. _

**~**

The guests in the inn retreated in groups and just one or another silent drinker remained in the hall. Trevor and Alucard sat by a table in a corner, quiet and with a single mug on the table, and the owner approached.

“This guy’s a debtor, sir,” Trevor pointed, “Bring me a beer on him.”

The old man examined Alucard with his only eye and commented:

“He doesn’t look like a debtor.”

“But he is. One more.”

“One for me, as well, please,” Alucard asked before he turned his back on them.

Trevor looked at him as if he did not recognize him.

“What’s wrong?” Alucard asked, “Never seen me drink before?”

“Nothing.”

“I just want this moment to flow faster.”

“I know that feeling.”

Their drinks were served by one of the owner’s sons, a man maybe their age, that brought them the mugs and left without a word. They took a sip and Trevor inquired:

“Do you know what’s in this beer? I’ve been asking myself that since we arrived.”

“Some kind of spice,” he looked at the mug, “A rare thing to see.”

“It tastes great, that’s what matters,” Trevor drank some more and sighed, “Listen, maybe I won’t remember this tomorrow, and that’s why I’m saying it now.”

“Hmm?” Alucard was all ears.

“I… I shouldn’t have been a complete idiot. I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong with  _ you _ ?” He chuckled.

“Never seen me apologize?”

“Honestly?” Alucard frowned.

“I’m the same one as always, as drunk as always. I just learned a thing or two with Sypha while you took a nap.”

Alucard lowered his eyes.  _ And I, what did I learn? _ He took a gulp of the beer, getting to the half of the mug, and said:

“Maybe I should drink more often.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Trevor finished his own.

They gave the owner some coins, and he blessed them, wishing a good night, and everyone went to their rooms. Trevor knocked on the door and heard from inside:

“It’s not locked.”

“Yes, it is,” he answered, pushing with no success.

He waited a bit and Sypha said, her voice muffled by the door:

“The key is not here, then.”

“It ain’t here either,” Trevor searched his pockets, “Where did you lose them-”

“I have it,” Alucard approached with his lazy climbing with the key in his hand and unlocked it.

Trevor tripped and luckily fell on the bed with a relief sound, facing down and with half of his body on the mattress. Sypha was fast enough to dodge his weight. She had the occultists’ journal in a hand and Alucard’s quill in the other.

“Check this out,” she signed for them to come closer.

“Did you decipher some more of this mess?” Trevor turned his head without leaving where he was.

“No. I just wrote here because it’s the only paper we’ve got.”

Alucard sat on the opposite side and read on the pages:  _ “Curse of Ploiesti’s victims - Dates - Symptoms - Cause of death - Circumstances - Coincidences - Relations they had” _ .

“Very good. I think it’ll be of great help,” complimented Alucard, “Trevor?”

“Yeah?” He asked with a dragged voice.

“Read it, please,” Sypha patted on his head.

“I can’t. I’ll collaborate when the world spins a bit less.”

Sypha rolled her eyes:

“Give him a glass of water, Alucard. Preferably splashing it on his face.”

“Your wish is my command,” he reached for the jug and poured water in the metal mug.

“Wait, wait right there, no wasting it,” Trevor raised all of a sudden, kneeling on the floor, “Gimme that mug.”

Trevor chugged at it, cleaned his lips with his sleeve, and thanked. He also squinted his eyes to see what was on the blank pages of the journal and commented:

“That’s really great. What do we know so far?”

Sypha started to count on her fingers:

“It was more than a victim. They die in their sleep, after thinking they’re stalked and watched. It’s been a while it’s going on. The burglar in Sohodol died of strangulation, but we don’t know if it’s the same for all of them… I believe that’s all.”

“We’ll find out the rest when we get there,” Alucard got up, sat on his own bed, and put his journal back on his legs, “Now, we rest.”

Trevor shared the bed with Sypha, and it was too small for two. He bothered Alucard:

“It’s not fair that you have a bed for yourself.”

“Are you complaining of sleeping with company?” Alucard chuckled.

“I hope not,” Sypha pinched Trevor’s cheek.

“I’m not,” he kissed her with very little decency, “I just could use a bit more space today, but someone here isn’t an expert on that sorta thing.”

“An expert, huh?” Alucard frowned, “I’m usually not one to brag, but-”

“Hey. Manners,” interrupted Sypha.

Trevor blew out the candle on the bedside table with a “good night” and went back to what he was doing before.

“Who said you could blow it out?” Alucard lighted it again with a spark.

The light made him see a lot of unintended affection. He went back to his journal, which he opened, and stretched his hand for the quill when the murmur in the other bed saw no end. He asked:

“Quieter, please.”

“You should’ve stayed home if you came to be a nuis-”

Sypha covered Trevor’s mouth and ordered:

“Shut up. Forget it, Alucard.”

_ Should I? _ The noise, indeed, became more reasonable until it ceased and was exchanged for a goodbye and a soft snore. Focused on the journal, he ignored them and went back to writing, scribbling on the last “however” he registered and heading to the next page.

_ “Trevor, even being a loner as well as my father, doesn’t remind me much of hom. He’s also dedicated, cunning, and a misanthrope. But he does not look for meaning into everything, and does things out of impulses very often. He gives in to alcohol too much, even if he advises others not to do the same. He’s also not as powerful or as furious. Despite my thinking of him as a possible good leader, he only leaves his anonymity when it’s needed. To be honest, it is easier to see flaws in him, rather than virtues, but they are there, somewhere, and you can see it after some time. I can’t tell, however, what would he do if a tragedy took Sypha’s life as one took my mother’s. _

_ Although it seems like, at the time, a great comparison of this person with that, it’s not my goal with this I now write. I intend to compare myself to the rest. With which of them do I look like the most? I don’t have my father’s bloodthirst, and the idea, at times, grosses me out. I never killed a victim for prey. I never even looked for a victim, cornering them as a scared animal. Each and every taste of blood I’ve ever had was my own, or out of curiosity about my father’s food. I’ve seen him eat in careless ways in front of me very few times. I think he didn’t want to encourage me. It’s strange to think of that. _

_ Talking about habit, in spite of being, in general, a very happy and harmonic couple, the few times I’ve seen my parents argue and that had to do with me, most of them were about my learning of dark magic. My mother believed this was a terrible influence, and that I could learn how to defend myself in other ways. My father believed it was the minimum he could do for a young boy like me, who was neither a thing nor another. I had, though, a very safe and protected childhood, and I now believe my father was talking about the time I would discover the world out there on my own. The only form of dark arts my mother had no problems with was the disguise, because it’s safe and reliable, and she approved that I studied the sword. I appreciate any form of knowledge, but I don’t appreciate all studies, and many things were hard on me in the beginning. _

_ I also have thought of following on my mother’s footsteps as a doctor. The suffering can get to me, and maybe some drops of her transcendental love for the human species run in my veins, if you are with me so far. I’ve learned a lot with her by observing and asking questions, but Medicine is not a thing you do without material support. In a lack of remedies, cleanliness, and tools, one dies due to very little things; the human body, despite being made for survival, has a range of weaknesses. _

_ Frequently I’ve also seen her treating things that were no illnesses or accidents: the human beings, just as my kind (what kind am I, after all?) assaults and kills also due to very little things. I don’t know if I could, like her, keep my focus and composure in front of every case that showed up at my door. Maybe I’d do some eye-for-an-eye justice, sweeping away the bad apples that crossed my path and staining my reputation with blood. What’s this humanity that brags of looking for salvation and strays further and further away from it every day? Vampires are creatures with their own moral, but, at least, they don’t boast about that kind of thing. Also, being the humankind a social one, there are occasions in which said bad apple makes all of the basket rotten, spreading the evil like a plague. But I believe that even if it’s swimming against the current, there are individuals that don’t let themselves be spoiled so easily. _

_ It was positive writing about all of this. I’ll soon return to these pages with more of my foolish remarks. See you.” _

He closed the notebook, disassembled the quill, and carefuly put them away in the baggage, going back go bed. Trevor and Sypha’s noise became ione made of two tranquil breaths.  _ Maybe I should copy them.  _ He did not cover himself in blankets; he felt no cold.  _ The luxury of a bed won’t last forever. _


	7. Ploiesti

The owner of the inn had a last check on the horses, at the doors that took them to the road, in a morning which the grey sky was no news. They were already mounted and the baggage was all in place. The old man got closer, putting his hand on the horse’s neck, and talked to Trevor on top of it:

“Remember it?”

“Yes, sir,” he looked down.

“So, repeat it.”

“Leaving the horses in the stable on the north entrance… To the gentleman with a blonde mustache.”

“And what else, son?”

“The woman who speaks too quietly or their skinny son can answer the door too,” Trevor scratched his head.

“And…?”

“No taking the horses off road.”

“Good, very good,” the old man laughed, “Don’t think that, because I have just an eye, that I don’t have both ears. I have ears everywhere, I sure do. You’d better do what I told you, or it won’t be easy on ye.”

“I can imagine it, sir,” he also laughed and petted the horse’s mane, “They’re really well cared.”

“It’s my younger boy’s work. The boy’s a gem. Now, have a good trip, my friends.”

Trevor and Sypha bid farewell to the old man with a handwave, and Alucard just looked back with a head nod. The fourth day on the road followed with no interruptions; in the fifth day, it was cold to chill the spine, but the threat of rain did not come to be. Before he went to sleep, Trevor looked at the horses and decided to throw one of the blankets on them, hugging Sypha as much as he could. In the morning of the sixth day, when the sky quit rehearsing and sent them a drizzle, was the day they saw Ploiesti appear in the horizon.

The walls of the city were made of old stone, and the transit at the gates was of more agitation than all of Sohodol. They had to dodge more than a crammed carriage and more than a group of pedestrians before they could enter. The two who rode horses got off of them to stretch their legs and pulled them gently by the reins. Sypha looked around and commented:

“It must be a wonderful city in the summer. Check out these trees.”

“It’s even more beautiful in the spring, ma’am,” there was the voice of a boy, “Will you buy an apple? The horses like them.”

They looked for who called her and found a boy sitting on a stool, under a short tree and in front of an old house, with a basket full of apples on his lap and another on the ground. Sypha picked some from the basket and ended up getting her change out of her pocket, buying five apples she shared equally among horses and humans.

“And what else can we find here?” She asked the boy.

“Is it your first time here? Go to the Tree in the market square. It is orange now, it’s an oak and a beautiful sight. They set up the market there, of course, but not today, it’s a holy day. They will set it up tomorrow, if there’s no rain.”

Trevor’s horse meddled in the sight of apples, and he gave half of his own to it, with a pet on the neck. He looked at the sky. _ If there’s no rain? _ He smirked. The drizzle still fell over them. He spoke to the seller:

“Is the stable around here?”

“Yes, sir. Just turn that one corner,” the boy pointed at a narrow path, “But maybe they won’t answer.”

“Why?” Trevor frowned.

“The owner’s daughter,” the boy whispered, “They say she’s cursed.”

They headed to the alley and identified the stable, on a corner with less movement. Trevor knocked on the door and who answered was said gentleman with a blonde mustache, with a deep sight and a tired appearance.

“Good morning,” he looked at the animals, “Where are you coming from?”

“Sohodol, in the North, sir,” _ Actually, from a sinister castle near there. _ Trevor laughed up his sleeve, “We’ve heard from Ploiesti even there.”

“They’re the horses of the inn, right? They’ll be delivered.”

_ He changed subjects. The story about his daughter must be true. _ They handled him the reins and followed the man, even if he did not call them. _ He won’t deny the stable roof to three travellers in the rain. _ They also gave him the fee for returning the horses. The owner said them a “please come back” with no real wish for them to do it. _ I gotta be quick. Come on, have an idea. _

“You know, sir,” started Trevor, “Can you make us a discount? I have experience with horses. The other two don’t, but they’re strong and healthy and do what they’re told.”

Sypha and Alucard looked at each other and said nothing. The owner gave them a good stare and sighed again:

“I’m really busy today. Let’s see how you carry it out. If you’re lying, I demand that you leave us alone.”

“I’m not lying, sir. You’ll see.”

The rest of the day, until sunset, was spent taking care of manes, hoofs, hay, water, cleaning, mounts of leaves, and drips on the roof, under Trevor’s instructions, who was restless all the time, and the owner’s. Trevor himself, in the end of the working hours, let himself fall on the floor, supporting himself on a pillar, with a cup of water for which he desired to have a prophet’s power. He commented:

“Let’s say I missed doing this.”

“I think you should go back to it,” the owner approached him from his back, “You are skilled with it, son. Where did you learn it?”

“At home. My family had horses. But we lost everything.”

“And where are you from?”

The excuse took him a while:

“Transylvania, sir. People hardly know us in these parts.”

“I see,” the man looked at any point in space and did not seem to notice his lie, “I’m very thankful for your work. I feel like I should repay you, to be honest.”

“I won’t refuse a hot soup and a bit of chat,” Trevor stretched.

“Please, come in. Let’s leave this drizzle.”

The house surprised them with more space than they expected. It did not resemble in the slightest the tight living spaces most of the people had. The owner’s tiny wife showed up with her modest step to see what was going on, an Trevor heard him ask quietly for her to serve them food. As the soup was just warm enough, flavorful and made of good ingredients, Alucard inquired the owner:

“What’s going around the city, sir? Much is heard outside it, but we don’t know how much of them are rumours.”

“You know it already, then. The curse the Devil put upon us,” the man shook his head, “It’s the Devil’s work, it can only be.

“Why do you say that, sir?” Alucard went on.

The man took a while to answer:

“Our… Our girl,” he sighed, “She roams the house when asleep. When she’s awake, she won’t leave her bedroom. She says someone’s after her. We watched the house, me and my son, who’s in Bucharest. There’s no one. She’s…”

_ Crazy? _ Trevor rested his hand on his chin and tried:

“Don’t you think something happened to her? Something she haven’t told you.”

“Nothing. She’s a good girl. She won’t leave without telling us, she never raises her voice to us, she’ll go to church with us.”

“Didn’t she do anything out of the usual these last days?” Trevor asked.

The man thought for a bit:

“There’s a traveling troupe in the city. But we also saw it, me and the whole family, and we’re… We’re fine, the rest of us.”

“When is their next presentation?” Alucard let his bowl on the table, “We’ve heard today is a holy day, so…”

“Today, if there’s no rain, in the Tree.”

The owner’s wife heard the conversation from the door that took one to the rest of the house and got closer from her husband’s back, whispering:

“I’ll go see how’s Katrina.”

The man nodded and went back to look at the table:

“Please, eat some more. If so you wish.”

As Trevor stood up and stepped forward towards the stove, they heard a scream. It came from another part of the house and was followed with the gentle voice of the owner’s wife. There was more despair and the sound of things being thrown on a wall. The four kept quiet until the commotion ceased, Trevor feeling a shiver down his spine. He quietly filled his bowl and went back to the bench, the whole table with a grief mood.

“Sir,” said Alucard, “What I’m going to say might sound strange, but the three of us travel to take care of situations like this.”

_ What? _ Trevor almost choked on the soup. He looked briefly to Sypha, who had the same face. _ Who are you and what did you do to the guy from the beginning of the week? _ None of both dared to interrupt him. The man stared at Alucard with something between hopelessness and judgment. _ And one can’t blame him for that. _ Alucard went on:

“The world went through many twists since the attacks of the unexplainable, and I believe we can help your daughter.”

_ Unexplainable, my ass. _ Trevor kept quiet, and the man said:

“I hope you’re not lying, fellow.”

“I’m not. We’re not. We are spending the week in the city and we’ll find out what this curse is about,” Alucard took a deep breath, “Do you know where can we stay?”

“There are good taverns around the Tree. Go to the market square in the center and you’ll find it.”

“Thanks a lot, sir,” he got up, calling Trevor and Sypha, “Let’s go, before it is too late. May God look after this home.”

Trevor swallowed up a snort when hearing him speak of religion. _ But, well, it was a good take. _

**~**

The Tree was an old, leafy oak, with his top orange from the season. Its leaves and acorns covered a good portion of the square, and a downpour accompanied of a gale were sure to drop more of them. _ It’s a shame this is a deluge. I’d love to sit under it and read. _Sypha ran forward, her hood over her head, until they docked in a fine-looking tavern. They opened the door, making a torrent of water enter the place and startle both customers and the waitstaff. A woman who was older than the three, with a lap infant in her arms, got closer to ask if they looked for bedrooms. 

“We have a free one, but it has a double bed. We can always put some straw on the floor, if you want.”

“Is that a problem?” Sypha looked at the other two, who were too busy twisting their clothes to answer, “I think it’s fine, ma’am.”

“I’ll ask my husband to get the key. Just let him finish wait that table.”

The baby started grumbling, and the woman nursed him to sleep. Sypha complimented:

“It’s a beautiful child. What’s their name?”

“Thanks, miss. We didn’t choose it yet. I thought of giving her my name, I’m Alizia, but it’s also my mother’s name…,” she waved to a man on the other side of the room, and he came closer, “Dear, go get the key of the remaining room. These three are staying.”

“Three?” he scratched his head, “Well… Sure. Just a second.”

They climbed up the stairs, the man showed up with the key and a straw mount under an arm. He set up the improvised bed on the floor while he cordially asked where did they come from and what were they doing in the city. Trevor was evasive, making up a story about a problem with an inheritance and asked for a drink.

“I can bring water to the room, sir,” the owner said, “We do not allow beer or otherwise upstairs.”

“Whatever. I’m not refusing it.”

Him and Sypha jumped onto bed after the man left, and Alucard seemed thoughtful on doing the same or laying down on the straw, choosing the latter, giving up shortly after, and sitting on the edge of the mattress. After a lazy moment, Sypha raised from the bed, beginning:

“Well. What do you think this curse is about, if we can call it like that? It doesn’t look like a sickness to me.”

“It really doesn’t,” Alucard agreed, “Please, get your notes.”

She found the addled book in the baggage, opened it on the page, and read again:

“_ Curse of Ploiesti’s victims - Dates - Symptoms - Cause of death - Circumstances - Coincidences - Relations they had _,” she sat again, “Right now, we’ve heard of the burglar and of Katrina. We know it’s something of the last few weeks, maybe the last month. The strange behaviors begin in their sleep, and then evolve to afflict the victim when awake.”

“Also, they involve paranoia, chase craze, maybe hallucinations,” said Alucard.

“Nightmares?” Trevor asked.

“It’s possible,” Alucard looked lost in thought, “The best place to investigate it might be the hospital. There has to be one, in a city this size.”

“Let’s look for it tomorrow,” Sypha put her hand around her ear, “Listen. I think we’re isolated.”

Alucard stood up and opened the window to check the rain. The wind opened it wide and threw a gush of water on his face.

“Terrible idea,” he closed it again, “But you’re right.”

“I have a more trivial question,” Sypha raised a finger, “What time are we having dinner?”

“Suit yourselves if you wanna go there. I’m dead tired,” Trevor spread himself on the bed.

“You can’t drink upstairs, but they said nothing about eating. I’ll bring you something,” she caressed his forehead.

“I’m dead tired _ now _. Later’s another story.”

_ I’ll give you leeway, but just because you worked your ass off. _She kissed his cheek, got some provisions, and climbed down the stairs, leaving the door unlocked. Alucard joined her.

The saloon was calm for an end of a holy day. _ It must be the rain… Or their prices. _Looking around, both the customers and the place were of much higher standard comparing it to the modest tavern where Isobel worked. The owners sat on a corner, on tall stools, with a big closed box at their feet, and talked quietly. A well-dressed waiter stood by to get their requests.

“What do you suggest?” asked Sypha?

“The cider is one of the things that make the house famous, ma’am.”

“So, bring me one, please.”

“Two of them, actually,” Alucard said.

When the mugs arrived, each of them found out the sugary flavor. _ It’s good to get the unwary drunk. _ They looked to the owners, still in the same place, and she questioned:

“What are they doing?”

“I don’t know either. Let’s wait for it,” he took a long sip, “What a pleasant place.”

“Just don’t go over the top.”

“I’m not that inexperienced with alcohol. I just lack the habit.”

“Perhaps I have a habit out of having to control other people’s drinking,” she laughed and lost some time observing him, “How are you today?”

Alucard took a while to answer her, lost in some loop of thought:

“Sort of… Confused. I was about to say ‘indecisive’, but it’s not quite the term.”

“Confused about what?”

“It’s a confusion that seems to me that it has more of an internal than an external source. It’s hard to understand, and even harder to explain.”

“Then, why don’t you try?”

“It has to do with what I’m doing, with what I should do. Not just about this present moment, it’s a more general concern. What I am, and what I should be.”

From the corner of the eye, Sypha noticed the man of the couple of owners open the box to get a lute from it and start tuning it.

“They’re musicians,” Alucard commented with a hint of a smile.

“It makes sense now that they’re there. Should I call the sleeping beauty upstairs?”

“If you think you can do it,” he laughed.

“Wait here.”

**~**

His skin burned like fire. He struggled among the flames, running and running, trying to leave the corridors behind. In each new turn, they continued, all the same, all infinite. Someone screamed for him. Whose was that voice? One of his sisters’? His mother’s, perhaps? The ceiling collapsed in front of him, also kindling, very short of falling on top of himself. As he looked up, he saw the starry sky, just the same as that one night. There was no roof anymore, the walls were high, he looked around and saw descending spiral stairs. Everything burned, everything until the last flag. He stepped backwards, tripped, and went down that endless fall.

Someone still called for him. He was breathless… Was he crying? Someone held out a hand in the dark and he grabbed onto it, holding on that arm without a body. He was hanging between the abyss of the fall and that hand of nobody, so far deep into the void that the Moon was nothing but a minuscule dot in the sky. His arm hurt more and more, weakening, almost giving in. Other hands appeared and held him from under his arms, while the walls crumbled down and the burning stones fell beside him like crumbs. All the hands disappeared, and he fell again.

“Trevor!”

He opened his eyes. Sypha leaned over him, and he felt a drop onto his face. He was breathing through his mouth, panting, and his head was drenched in sweat. She sat by his side and he got up, sitting as well; slowly, as his strength failed him. Sypha hugged him so tight, like she had not seen him for long.

“For a moment, I…,” she sobbed, “I thought it was that curse. You wouldn’t wake up.” 

He corresponded the hug, also slowly, and felt his heart decelerate. _ Thank you. _

“No. It was just another one of those,” he breathed in deep, “It happens when you’re not here with me.”

He held her closer and let out a tear or two. Sypha said nothing.

“I’m becoming spoiled with you around,” he smiled.

The feeling of that dream did not look like it would leave any time soon. _ It’s one of those you carry for a while after you wake up. _

“It’s much harder when you’re not here,” he whispered.

“Sorry,” she had a crying voice.

“Shh, don’t give me that. It’s been happening for so long now.”

They went silent, holding onto one another, until he pulled her in for a kiss, that lasted how long it needed to last for him to wake up. He asked, their faces still close:

“Why did you come here?”

“I came to call you. There’s going to be a presentation down there, the tavern keepers. They brought a lute.”

“Really?”

“Come and see,” Sypha stood up and pulled him by a hand.

They cleaned their faces on a hurry and climbed down the stairs, finding Alucard in the same table, his chin on his hand. Sypha called him:

“How are things here?”

“Not very agitated. They were still tuning.”

Trevor saw a dish on the table with two golden chicken thighs and asked for one of them; Alucard gave him a stinky eye, but gave in, and all of them sat down. The tavern, that was already dark due to the stormy weather, welcomed the nightfall, and the female keeper got up to light up the torches in the fireplace. She roamed the place wearing a long, floating dress, and a side braided hair. _ They’re not clothes you see anyone from the townspeople wear. _ He glanced at Sypha and tried to imagine her in that outfit, half-smiling. _ It doesn’t match her much. _

When the woman finally was back to her stool, the whole room went quiet. The lute began its melody, as slow as a lament, and the female keeper’s voice was the same, following like that for two stanzas until it exploded in a chorus full of missing, longing, and regret. The duo continued to toy with the emotions of the crowd, to the point not even the single people felt so single. The next song was a cheerful ballad that people used to dance to, and they headed to more light-spirited songs, as well as working songs, love and unrequited love songs, pieces of grief, of loss, and of passion. The audience, singing along the majority of the concert, was in a little more than half of the tables, and the waitstaff was still crazed. Trevor himself lost track of the cider mugs very quickly, and none of the other two on his table bothered him about it, as they did the same. The more mugs he drank, the louder he wanted to sing. Sypha was belting out quite well, and Alucard only whispered a verse or two.

As they seemed to finish the concert, the woman of the couple announced:

“To the guests, for the last one of the night. Someone?”

The only thing that was head was the murmur of the conversation coming back, and no one volunteered. The couple looked at each other, and the male keeper pointed with his free hand, holding onto the lute with the other:

“Him, right there, dear. He was putting on a show. Would you like to come?”

Trevor took a while to notice they were indeed talking to him. He asked:

“Is it me?”

“Yes, sir!” The man answered.

“I’m not going on my own,” he stood up.

Alucard opened his mouth to object the embarrassment when Trevor pulled Sypha by a hand.

“Are you coming with me?” he asked her.

“If you’re going, I’m going,” she stuttered.

The crowd cheered a little. They walked to the spot where there were the stools for the concert. The male tavern keeper questioned them about duets, from song to song, until they found one that everyone knew how to execute, a fun piece of rivals that was successful anywhere. Trevor started his part of the melody and Sypha followed his guidance, each one accomplishing their part of the challenge the song offered, the best way they could in that state of intoxication. In the highest note of the song, they surprised everyone, including themselves, singing it in time, what raised a previous ovation. They interacted surrounding each other and staring at each other, holding hands and splitting apart, Sypha avoiding a trip or another and Trevor being very used to that state. As they finished, they received a round of applause and paid drinks. They sat by the table again while the keepers put away the lute. _ For a cursed city, I kind of like this place. _

**~**

The rain did not stop pouring on the roof and the window, the wind carrying it towards their bedroom. Trevor and Sypha throwed their own bodies on the bed, not worrying in the slightest to light up any candles._ They must be exhausted. _ Alucard sat on the chair, straightening his aching back and neck from the day of work.

“You see, huh?” Trevor half talked to himself, and half to the other two, “How we started this week and where we ended it up.”

“You two have fine voices. I didn’t imagine it,” complimented Alucard.

“Thanks. And you have a fine quietness, but I already knew that.”

“I think I’d rather you quiet as well,” Alucard snorted.

He left them alone and drove his attention to the table. He spent quite some time looking at the table top, listening to the rainfall, until he decided to light up a candle. _ I won’t disturb them much with it. _ He sighed and looked for his journal in the baggage. In that very table, maybe someone had opened books, maps, and documents. _ But this is all that I have. _He gave himself a break to eat the apple bought in the morning, set up his quill, then began.

_ “I find myself back to these private pages. I can hear the rain outside, and nothing else. It’s like I’m the only awake being on this Earth, or, perhaps, the only living being. Is that a wish? Is that something to envy? I don’t know. I think not. _

_ It’s been more than a week we’re not in the castle anymore. Five of these days were fully spent on the road, that was calm, therefore, of little relevance. Actually, Trevor’s forgiveness and apologies were relevant, but I can’t break the habit. I was very rude to him, who deserved none of my punches. I’m getting more familiar with alcohol with his blessing, and it’s been benign so far. I can understand him in that matter now. It’s easy to obtain and it can be dirt cheap; in a lower dosage, it’s a ray of sun on one’s day. However, it can make the best man become foolish, violent, or useless, and there lives the danger of it. I believe Trevor is a lucky man. _

_ Today was a good day for me, despite the bad circumstances. We’ve heard of a young woman stricken by the curse of Ploiesti. Her name’s Katrina, and she’s the daughter of the stable where we left the rented horses. Talking about it, they’re fascinating animals, even though the ones we used were not of the best blood; for sure, they were well treated. We didn’t come to see the girl, though. They only told us about her, and we heard her cries. She’s her parents’ treasure. They’re desperate. I’ll do what’s possible and what’s not for her not to die a miserable death in her sleep, fearful and defenseless of whatever preys on her. If I know my companions, they think like I do. _

_ Amongst other things, there was Trevor and Sypha’s performance. They were invited to sing with the tavern keepers, which I don’t know it it was an honor, or just a well thought strategy. It was revigorating not to be walking or solving problems for a while. It was also good to watch them having some fun, even if caught by surprise. _

_ As tiring as it is to be on the road, there’s always some time to spare, like now, in which I can’t sleep to save my life. The last time I considered writing and wasn’t very inspired to do it, I promised Sypha I’d show her what I’ve been writing here, but I didn’t do it. When I was about to touch the subject, I had no chance anymore. Some coincidences are…” _

He looked back. Sypha was sitting on the bed. He heard her moving; he just did not think she would wake up. She asked:

“Are you sleepless, too?”

“I am.”

Only the rain sounded for a while.

“Am I disturbing you?” she yawned.

“No. It’s always a good time.”

He stood up with his apple in hand, eating it with no hurry. When he finished it, he invited her:

“I’d like to watch the rainfall from the glass panel there is in this floor. Want to join me?” he smiled, “I understand if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll go, sure.”

He saw her gently calling Trevor and warning him she would leave. He muttered something as “alright”. _ Why does she bother with that? He was sleeping like a log. _ Sypha got up, wrapped up in one of the blankets, and walked out of the door he opened.

They walked a light step on the corridor to avoid making sound in the other rooms. It was colder outside the bedroom. In the saloon down there, the lights were already out and the customers found their way to go home under that downpour outside.

“Behold the Wallachian weather in all of its glory.”

“I miss a bit of sunlight,” she turned her head to look at him, “Aren’t you cold?”

“No.”

“I see.” Sypha got closer of the transparent, colorless glass panel, shaped like a flower with six petals, and rested her hand on it. The glass blurred with her touch. She looked both ways, just to be sure, and lit up a flame with the other hand. “Done,” she removed her hand from the glass, “Now, we see.”

“And we warm up a bit.”

There was only silence for a while.

“Wait, did you just come to see the rainfall?” She frowned.

“Yes. I mean, no,” he laughed, as if he felt lighter, “I want to talk, too, but we watch the rain, if you don’t want to.”

She also giggled, but quietly:

“You don’t need to beat around the bush like this. Wanna talk about the curse?”

“I’d rather believe today is a holy day. We don’t work, that is.”

“And we _ did _ work, the whole afternoon,” she shrugged, “Are you tired?”

“No,” he sighed, “Just lonely.”

Sypha laughed again, but louder, as loud as it was allowed in that dead silence of the closed tavern.

“So, you’re copying me?” She opened way under the blanket with an arm, inviting him, “There’s room for two under this cozy old blanket.”

Alucard stepped sideways and got closer, pulling the edge of the fabric over his opposite shoulder. _ Where have I seen it before? _ He smiled alone, remembering the library.

“Thank you,” he cleaned his throat, “But I wasn’t making an impression of you.”

“And why do you feel lonely?”

Alucard looked up, then to the floor. _ How to answer that question? _ He tried:

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Wherever you think it’s better.”

_ Is there a “better” in this case? _ He chose to begin from the outside, rather than inside:

“Have you ever noticed there are few of my kind?” He gesticulated with a hand, “Half-vampires, I mean. Most of them are a fruit of violence. I’m one of the few who was born out of love. You were with me when I… When I respected my mother’s last wish. I consider myself on her side, if one talks about History. But what if, and just if, I had aligned myself with my father, would I be wrong?”

“Probably.”

“A dozen of vampires from the whole world were with him… And I wasn’t. What am I?”

“Is it a riddle?” She had a clueless face.

“It’s a question.”

Sypha thought and thought, with her fireless hand on her chin. She answered:

“You’re yourself.”

“So, I’m alone, because there’s only me like me.”

“But aren’t we all like that?”

He went quiet when facing the obvious.

“No one needs to be an equal to another to find a kindred spirit. Don’t you think?”

“I think you’re right. I’m reasoning in circles,” he shook his head, “It’s the kind of thing that makes my mind busy in the spare time.”

“It’s called an ‘existential question’, and it happens to the best of minds.”

_ Am I a part of such best minds? _

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” she asked.

“Let’s say it’s just the surface of the existential questions I usually ask myself.”

“It’s not like I’m not following the conversation,” Sypha turned her head to the side, “Talk about whatever you want.”

“I also think a lot about the concepts of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’.”

“Right and wrong of anything?”

“Basically,” he pulled up the blanket that fell from his shoulder and kept on holding it.

“And you believe there are no shades of grey?”

“There lives the doubt, just as on myself,” he looked down, “It’s something I thought about a lot before I came with you two.”

“On all of those things?”

“Yes. To begin with…,” he made himself talk more, “Are there innocents in this world? People who are free from sin?

“Living is making mistakes, if that’s what you mean.”

“So, there are not. Why fight for those people? Why believe humanity?”

“Because some mistakes weigh less than others,” she counted on her fingers, “Because there are forgiveness and regret. And because one believes there can be more good than evil in this world. Now, answer me a thing.”

“Ask it.”

“What do _ you _ think ‘good’ means?”

Alucard spent good and bad moments thinking of a series of acts apart in time. His mother hosting a travelling woman with a sick infant. His father giving a coin to an unknown man. Himself taking care of a dog with a hurt paw. His family gifting a neighbor on her grandson’s birth. He answered:

“The things you do for the salvation of the others?”

“It’s a way to see things. I like it,” Sypha smiled, “And it looks way too positive for someone who doesn’t believe in innocents in this world.”

“I…,” he was at a loss of words.

“We’re all walking contradictions. Relax.”

They watched the rainfall for a while. As if he had not understood before, he noticed how close Sypha was, shoulder by shoulder. _ I remember the last time. _

“Can I give you a piece of advice?” She asked, “And also request you something.”

“Whatever you want.”

“Keep on doing what you think is right,” Sypha had a distant gaze, focused on the rain, “It would be sad to lose you to what’s… Not right.”

“I’ve heard the same thing in the beginning of the week, but in a much ruder tone.”

“I know quite well,” she sighed, “Trevor is not tactful in the slightest.”

“And I assaulted him for that. I hope you can forgive me,” he felt the guilt up to his throat, “Yourself, I mean. I already had a talk with him.”

“It’s how men solve things, I guess,” she shrugged.

“That’s not the question. I didn’t mean to hurt him much. I just lost my mind.”

“Can I be honest?” she asked. He nodded, “I’m still a bit hurt.”

Alucard breathed out all of the air he had in his lungs, and suddenly felt weak.

“But tell me more of what you were talking about,” requested Sypha.

He reflected, and then started:

“Think of a horse’s halter. Or an amplifying piece of glass. In summary, one sees the world in a way it’s not. It’s how I feel in that kind of moment. The threats look bigger. The pain cuts deeper. And it makes me feel like that will never end.”

She muttered something like an “I see,” and said:

“Is that what you’re going through, then?”

“Let’s say it’s not just that, but that, too,” he kept staring at the floor, “I… I think I’m sick. I just can’t put my finger on what is it called.”

In a spark of a memory, he remembered Katrina, the stable owner’s daughter, whose face he did not see. _ The curse at least has a name. What about this? _

“You know,” Sypha turned to see him, “If Trevor forgave you, I’ll forgive you, too.”

“All he said is that he was an idiot, and said he’s sorry.”

“He meant to forgive you.”

They both laughed and stared at each other with the remains of a smile. Sypha looked down.

“Thanks for coming,” he said.

“Those are my words.”

“I’m trying to do what’s right.”

Alucard waited for her to raise up her face in order to kiss her forehead.

“I believe it’s time we go back to the bedroom,” he suggested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song mentioned in the chapter would be similar to [Anything You Can Do (I Can Do Better)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anything_You_Can_Do_\(I_Can_Do_Better\)). Not that I know much about musicals, I just stumbled upon this song years ago and thought it would fit a duet scene.


	8. Curse - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines day!
> 
> CONTENT ALERT: this chapter contains a suicide attempt. Don't read if you're susceptible to that kind of content.

Sypha got rid of her sleepiness with a great stretch.  _ What a good bed. _ She rolled to the side and faced Trevor, still in the dark, in the beginning of a morning, and he was still asleep. She got half of her body up and found herself alone with him in the bedroom. With a pat on the shoulder and a gentle shake, Trevor also opened his eyes at once.

“Good morning,” he wished.

“There’s just the two of us here,” she looked around a second time, for no reason at all, “Did you see where did he go?”

“No, but great anyway. Come here,” he pulled her by the waist.

“Can I lock the door first?”

“Oh, there’s a key. Please do.”

She got up and did so, also pouring them a cup of water. They drank it in a single gulp, leaving the cups besides the bed, and soon, Sypha was back to Trevor’s arms.

“What a beautiful voice you have,” she complimented, after a kiss, “You were incredible yesterday.”

“Yours is great, too. You should sing more often.”

“That’s not true.”

“I’m telling you. You’ve got talent. Is it a Speaker thing?”

“We do have some songs,” she let out an embarrassed smile.

“It’s practice, like anything. But a good ear will help, and you already have that.”

_ You’re so charming when no one’s watching. _ He was not always like that, though; in the beginning, he was aloof enough for Sypha to ask herself if he even knew what to do with a woman by his side… Or with a person around. The months went by, and so did her requests.  _ And look how things changed. _ He pulled her in for another kiss.  _ “Tell me what’s on your mind, don’t save it for yourself. I want to hear it.” _ It started out as subtle compliments, that bloomed little by little, and they came together with a smile he acquired as his usual grumpy face faded away. However, one thing never changed: his quiet confessions, in the dead of the night, when no other soul was awake to hear it. She recalled his last nightmare and hugged him tighter, that opposite kind of body, broad and receptive.  _ I can’t protect you from what haunts you, but I can help you let them go. _ They broke it apart, breathless. Trevor looked down with a clever expression; Sypha did the same, just to be sure.

“This outfit sort of suits you well,” he smirked, running a hand on her curves. Sypha felt her face getting warm.

_ This shirt’s not mine.  _ She remembered changing her clothes some days before, putting on something Alucard lent her, and she wore an ivory shirt that indeed fit her body finely. Trevor stopped what he did and asked:

“What’s wrong, you didn’t like it?”

“I unexpectedly did.”

“Then, fine,” he got busy again.

**~**

Alucard sat by a table, and he was the only one in the saloon that time of the day. He stared at the last page written on his journal.  _ What to write, now? _ He considered not finishing the last sentence.  _ I think it’s time to start a new one.  _ He heard footsteps from the stairs and saw the two coming from the bedroom; he greeted them first.

“Good morning,” Sypha replied, adjusting her shirt, as he imagined she would do, “What’s worth ordering?”

“Maybe the same I did,” he showed the oatmeal porridge, made with oat they brought along, “But anything will be good. It is a skilled kitchen.”

A young woman, who looked very alike to the tavern keeper, stood by and got their orders.

“Bring me the most bitter tea you have,” Trevor said, “I have a sick stomach.”

“Two other porridges, please,” Sypha raised a finger.

As their orders arrived, she unveiled a honeycomb and broke it on the bowls. When she tasted it, she let out a sound of appreciation and called the waitress to ask what was on the dish.

“It’s ginger, ma’am,” she gave Trevor his tea, “I said it was for last night’s singers. I hope you like it.”

They were still eating when they heard something fall on the floor, coming from upstairs. The male tavern keeper, who showed up to clean the counter, left the cleaning cloth where it was and climbed the stairs, soon climbing them down on a hurry to talk to his wife and the young woman, then leaving the place. Sypha waved to call for one of them, and the owner approached.

“I’m sorry for the intromission, but what happened?” Sypha asked.

Alizia shook her head and answered in a quiet tone:

“There’s another case of the curse.”

“Can we talk to the person?” Alucard asked.

“If you’re not bothering him, you can try. He’s a fabric merchant on his way to Targoviste. Who would imagine…,” Alizia looked out of the window, “He’s in the last bedroom of the corridor.”

Alucard went upstairs and knocked on the door. A scared man’s voice asked who was it.

“Sir, I’m also a guest here,” he had to think quickly, “I think the same is happening to me.”

The merchant opened the door, shaking and with suspicion in the air. He was about forty and wore fine clothes, as well as a dense, nut-brown bear on his face, and had a full, round body.

“Thanks, sir,” Alucard said, “Could I have a seat?”

“As you wish.”

The windows were only half-open, and the bedroom was in gloom. The man hesitated before telling him:

“It’s been two days I dream of shadows,” he stared at the floor, still standing, “I got the mirror to trim my beard, and I was a shadow myself. There was no face. There was nothing.”

“I also dreamt of shadows, sir,” he hoped to sound convincing, “My own shadow tried to drown me in a river.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have come. That’s all you hear about on the road,” the man crossed himself with shaking hands and let himself fall seated on the bed, “Leave Ploiesti now, before it’s too late for you.”

“Would someone have cursed you?”

“I don’t know,” he ran a hand over his own face, “I was here last week and left, thinking I was safe.”

Alucard noticed a silver rosary on the table and asked:

“Do you always go to church, sir?”

“To every mass, unless when I’m on the road,” he stuttered, “I’d go tomorrow if I wasn’t a dead man.”

“We’re not. Don’t lose your faith. I’ll look for help,” Alucard stood up, “I don’t know your name. I’m Adrian Fahrenheit.”

“Leo Alexe,” they shook hands.  _ His hand is even colder than mine. _

“Nice to meet you, sir. Take care. If you need me, look for me in my bedroom.”

He left Leo’s room and headed to his own. Looking from above, he did not see the other two in the saloon, and he opened the door to find them playing checkers on a board they brought along.

“How is he?” Trevor asked, facing the door.

“Dead afraid. It’s understandable.”

He told them about the conversation in a quiet tone, sitting on the chair. 

“So, he wasn’t here for a week?” Trevor frowned.

“It’s what he said to me. That he left, trying not to be cursed.”

“It could be either of the two,” Sypha counted on her fingers, “It happened somewhere else, or the one week deadline is just a guess.”

“And the first hypothesis is the less probable one. There are no news from the curse in another city or region. It’s the curse of Ploiesti, period,” he looked from Trevor to Sypha, “On the deadline matter, that’s what intrigues me. Why a week?”

“It must be a matter of being observed,” Trevor suggested, “The ones responsible might look for the easiest targets.”

“Up until now, we have a burglar, a young girl, and a merchant from another city. It doesn’t look like to me that they belong to the same group,” Alucard rested a hand on his chin.

“But they might have come in touch with the same thing,” Trevor made a move on the board.”

“And that’s much more likely,” Alucard nodded.

“We talked about going to the hospital. It seems like a good next stop to me,” Sypha said.

There were knocks on the door. The young waitress brought them Alucard’s bowl, which he left on the table to go talk to Leo. He inquired her about the hospital.

“It’s on the back of the church. Not this one around the Tree. The one to the East. Near the city walls.”

As they left the tavern, they noticed it stopped raining and a crowd formed on the Tree square. There was a set stage and some fair stands, but, despite the size of the crowd, they could only hear a rural song that the people sung and marked the rhythm with clapping.

“It’s the concert thing,” Trevor approached, “I don’t know if it’s the repertoire, or if I’m not drunk enough, but yesterday was a better show.”

“How about we watch it, anyway?” Sypha went ahead, pulling him by a hand.

As they got a good spot to be among the crowd, after saying a lot of “excuse me” and “sorry,” the song ended and was applauded. The following number was a huge dog that could do tricks, an especially skilled juggler to whom the crowd threw some coins, a couple of dancers, and another singer that spent three songs on stage, relying just on the people’s choir as a background, singing with no instruments playing. Her voice was low-pitched and memorable, one that was a rare find. To finish, she recited a monologue in which a mother lamented her son’s disdain for her, and the crowd went to tears with her. She got off the stage with a hat in her hand, passing by to receive coins from the people, thanking at every moment. Sypha searched her own pockets to give her one, with no success.

“It’s fine, miss,” the singer smiled at her before going around again, “Your smile is worth a thousand coins.”

The people dispersed to the fair stands and to other places, and the three headed East.  _ It mustn’t be so hard to find a church. _ As they walked, Alucard asked something that occurred to him:

“What are we doing to get in?” The other two stopped and looked back, “Just asking to talk to the ill will grant us an expelling and nothing more.”

“I was thinking about that. Do as I say,” Trevor took a deep breath, “Punch me.”

“What?” Alucard and Sypha said at the same time.

“You heard it. A punch. Right here,” he pointed at his own face.

“What are you talking about?” Alucard stepped back.

“Don’t start. You wanted to beat my ass literally last week. Just do it.”

“Trevor, I don’t want to-”

“Before I change my mind, please.”

Trevor pulled him by an arm to an alley by their side.

“Hurry up,” Trevor rolled his eyes, “I’ve been through worse.”

“How strong is it supposed to be?” He cracked his knuckles.

“Strong enough for me to need to take care of my face, of course.”

He hesitated, keeping quiet. Trevor mocked him:

“It’s no time to feel sympathy, come on.”

“Uh, do you want it to be a surprise, or would you rather that I count to three?”

“Don’t count,” Trevor shook his head, “If I know when it comes, I’ll harden my body.”

“You won’t use it as an excuse to hit me afterwards, will you?” Alucard stepped forward.

“Don’t be stupid. What kind of-”

_ Now. _ He kicked Trevor’s knee, and, as he fell, he hit him with said punch on the right side of his face. Trevor fell to the ground as a dead weight and cursed at him, complaining:

“I  _ didn’t _ ask for that kick. I’ll owe you one,” he spit a bit of blood, “I’ve still got teeth. Great. Sypha?”

She helped him back to his feet and aided him on walking. Trevor pointed with his other arm:

“Now, on to the hospital.”

**~**

Sypha arrived with Trevor by her side and they both climbed the stairs of the church that was also a hospital; she screamed for help the best way she could.  _ You could’ve just shouted farther from my ear. _ They took twice the time to get there because of his limp leg, but, at least, the assault looked more veracious. A nun came out to check what happened, a woman by their age wearing a dark habit. 

“Sister, please,” Sypha begged, “He’s hurt. We’ve been robbed.”

“Oh, God. Please, come in. Where did it happen?”

“In an alley near the Tree,” she lied.

_ It was in an alley. _ Trevor muffled a laugh.  _ Just nowhere near there. _ The nun guided them to a spacious public bedroom with many beds and that smelled like sickness. He turned up his nose and regretted moving his face so much. They laid him on an empty bed. The nun asked:

“Do you want to talk to the city guard?”

“He didn’t see who did it,” Sypha shook her head, “It will be of no use.”

“Poor man,” the nun got closer and sat on a chair near the bed.

“It was but a scare, sister,” Trevor tried to calm her down, “I’ve still got my life, at least.”

She examined the swollen area on his right cheek, lightly touching around it. Trevor glanced at Alucard, who looked everywhere else except for him.  _ Bastard. _

“I’m getting some ice,” the nun stood up, “Avoid moving in the meantime.”

Alucard noticed he was being stared at and whispered:

“Don’t give me that. It was your idea.”

“The kick wasn’t,” he rested on the bed frame, “Wait, is there ice here?”

“There must be an ice house somewhere,” Sypha suggested, “But I can solve that problem in a flash later.”

Trevor looked to the sides, noticing the other patients and the nuns paid him little attention, and found the moment for it:

“Go see what you can find.”

The other two looked at each other, nodded, and left.

The nun was back with ice rolled up in a cloth. She asked:

“Is it just your face, sir?”

“No, my knee as well. But my face hurts a lot more.”

She applied the cold compress and he cursed from the pain.

“Sorry for my manners, sister.”

“You’re forgiven. We hear far worse than that here, actually.”

Trevor took a deep breath to stand the touch of the ice on the forming bruise. He then started a chat:

“How has it been here lately?”

“I’ll have to take off your boot. What are you talking about, sir?”

“I mean, I’m not from Ploiesti. I’ve been here for just a few days, and heard the rumors.”

The ice was moved from his face to his knee, what made him curse even louder. The nun asked:

“Hold on the compress, please.”

_ Are you sure I can’t throw it out the window? _

“There’s nothing broken in my leg, is there?”

“I’ll be sure about it soon. Hold the compress,” she repeated, removing his boot, “Is there any other wound?”

“Just from a week ago. A bar fight,”  _ Half a truth is fine _ , “They’re better already, don’t worry.”

“You should be more careful, sir.”

“Sometimes, you just can’t avoid it,” he sighed.

“And where are the other two?”

“They are waiting for me outside, I think. I told them to go back to the tavern we’re in, but I’m not sure if they did.”

“I see,” she started touching his knee, much to his distaste, “Do you still want to hear about the curse, sir?”

“I wasn’t exactly asking about it, but it’s always good to know. I don’t want it to happen to us, too.”

“It doesn’t look like there’s anything broken, thank God,” the nun sat on the chair again and started whispering, “The curse began since that one troupe arrived, two or three weeks ago.”

Trevor felt a shiver down his spine.  _ Is it? _ He answered:

“I talked to a gentleman that saw them and everything’s alright with him. His daughter was the only one cursed, sister.”

“They don’t curse everyone that watches them, or else, the whole city would be dead. Of course they choose some people. I don’t know how they do it, but the Devil works through them, God protect me.”

He was thoughtful for a second.  _ Well, it’s not impossible. _ He put a hand on his chin.

“And can the cursed be cured, sister?”

She shook her head, muttering:

“We have some of them here in the hospital, ones their families can’t hold at home anymore. They’re in closed bedrooms, or they would hurt others. We just try to make them pass away in peace.”

**~**

The corridors of the convent were dark and had no furniture, with few windows, some halls with pillars, and many closed doors. Sypha walked on the front and Alucard followed her, both quiet. Looking down, she remembered;  _ “this outfit sort of suits you well.” _ Feeling safe of being the one forward and in the dark, her face got beet red.

“What should we look for, exactly?” Alucard asked.

Sypha had a jumpscare, stopped walking, and turned to answer:

“Not to bump into any nun, in the first place. Second, we should try to talk to someone who’s cursed, I think.”

He frowned and pointed at her direction:

“Your first plan just went wrong, though.”

She looked back and saw an old lady wearing a habit, with a crooked back and wrinkled like a prune. Sypha had another scare and greeted the religious woman with a stuttered “good afternoon”. The other said nothing and headed to the the perpendicular corridor with a fleeting step.

“Are we following her?” Sypha asked in a whisper, to avoid the echoing walls.

“Why not?”

They tiptoed after the old lady, but she surprised them being much quicker than expected. She climbed a set of stairs and, then, to a kind of bridge that liked the upper floor to a neighboring building, a part of the convent.

“Is it a problem that we’re here?” The question occurred to Sypha.

“Uh, probably?”

When they arrived the bridge, it started drizzling on them, but the old lady was tenacious wherever she would go. They observed her gaining some distance, the two under the roof. They looked at each other and Sypha continued ahead, pulling Alucard by his sleeve.

In the next building, there were no halls, the corridors were narrower, and the echo was muffled. The old lady climbed down many more stairs, and they saw no other soul besides her. She opened an already half-open door, leaving it so. They peeked through it and saw an end of a lit candle left on a table, and that was the first time they saw the shadow.

It was a tall human figure, huge in comparison to the old lady and taller than both of them. It had elongated arms, narrow shoulders, and long, sharp fingers, as well as a face without any hair or facial features. Any trace would disappear in its ebony tone, and one could not see through it. It followed the old lady’s footsteps, until she sat on the tall bed, got her head up, and the shadow disappeared. She turned her face to the door.

“Who are you?” she inquired.

Sypha opened her mouth to answer two times, and decided for honesty:

“Sister, my name is Sypha Belnades. I roam this country taking care of the people. You are being haunted, I just saw it.”

“Haunted? Hmph,” she let her sandals fall on the tapestry and crossed her thin legs on the bed, “I know, girl. It’s the shadow, isn’t it?”

Alucard and the old lady crossed eyes. She asked:

“What about you, young man?”

“I’m Adrian. Sypha’s my…,” he hesitated, looking at the sleeve she held and let go when she noticed, “…Sister.”

“I have no idea how on Earth did you end up here, nor who let you in, but it doesn’t matter. If you kill me, I’m already old anyway,” she coughed, “This shadow. It started appearing to me last Sunday. In the beginning, I thought it was the Devil. I screamed and screamed at it for it to leave. I showed it the cross, threw holy water at it. I even cursed at it, God forgive me. But it won’t let me go.”

“Aren’t you afraid, sister?” Sypha frowned.

“Afraid of it, me?” She let out a cynical laugh, “Girl, when I was your age, I let a man the size of your brother crippled for life when he tried to violate me. I only fear God.”

“And what do you think the shadow is, ma’am?”

“Beats me, girl. There are many kinds of demons that roam this Earth, even more in times like these. It’s a shame most of them are made of flesh and blood, just like you and me.”

Sypha decided to try:

“Do you dream about it?”

“Every single night! Since one Sunday, two weeks ago, there wasn’t a single day in which I dreamed of other thing. What a nuisance it is.”

“And what did you do that Sunday, that you didn’t do in others?” Alucard frowned.

“I went to the mass in the other church. The father invited me, and I don’t have much more to do with my time.”

“Katrina went to the church. Leo did, too,” Alucard remembered.

“That’s true,” Sypha shivered.

“Every time I go, I sit right on the first seat, since it’s been years I don’t see much anymore. But I can still hear well, oh, I do,” the old lady cleared her throat.

“Do you sleepwalk, sister?” Sypha inquired.

“Me? No.”

“We found you in the corridor. Haven’t you noticed us?”

“Corridor, girl? When was I in the corridor? I don’t set foot outside of this bedroom since lunchtime.”

Sypha felt her body growing tense. She commented:

“There are many more cursed people here in Ploiesti. They’re dying.”

“I know quite well. Here, in the hospital, there are lots of them, and we don’t know what to do with them besides locking them away and waiting.”

“I’d like to try and banish this shadow from you, sister,” she breathed in deep.  _ Stay strong _ , “We don’t know what’s going to happen, but…”

“There’s not much time left for me on this Earth. Either you or the shadow, anyone that puts me to rest, it would be my time to go anyway.”

Sypha nodded and asked:

“Does anyone else know about your condition?”

“No. These brainlets would treat me like I’m senile.”

“And, if something happens, do you wish that I tell someone your last words?”

“Tell those lazy bums to wash the pillows. They’re full of fleas in the hospital.”

Sypha nodded again and talked to Alucard:

“Go find Trevor.”

“How?”

“Work it out.”

He turned around and left to the other building. Sypha stayed with the old lady, and told her:

“I’ll ask you to sleep, sister.”

“That’s what I was going to do. I woke up to take my sandals off.”

**~**

Alucard left the bedroom towards the rest of the convent with fleeting feet.  _ If we’re quick enough, we can save the others. _ He felt his heart race.  _ Is it fine if I run? _ So, he ran. The way back was done in half the time, stairs after stairs, a corridor after another. The hospital wing where he was at first was getting closer when he collided with something grumpy and in pain, who cussed all the names he could when he fell to the floor. Alucard also lost his balance and fell. He shook his head and just then found out what was that about. He stood up, held out a hand for Trevor, and saw his swollen, slightly disfigured face. Trevor did not use his help and complained:

“I leave for some fresh air and that’s how you show up?”

“What’s that in your hand?” Alucard asked about the posy.

“Arnica. The most boring flower of Wallachia,” Trevor raised the bouquet to show him, “I can drink it with alcohol, and that helps a lot.”

“Great.”

“Now, please collaborate and don’t mess it up any more.”

“It was your idea,” Alucard frowned, “Hurry, before someone sees us.”

They followed by the same way. Trevor still had a limp leg and cursed at every stair step.

“You could give me a little hand here, you know.”

“You don’t want me to do the bridal carry, do you?” Alucard smirked.

Alucard held out an arm to support him, and Trevor also laid a hand on the rail.

“So, you got any clues?” Trevor asked.

“Clue?” He chuckled, “We have a whole case on it.”

Alucard told him about the old lady, and Trevor connected the dots:

“It must be a shadow. The entity kind. The kind that possesses the victim’s body,” he sighed, “I think we do have quite a case.”

“If it wants a body, why would it kill that burglar? What’s the use of a corpse?”

“He might have tried to resist the possession.”

“Even if an indigent like him didn’t have any means to fight against such an attack? It’s something of the mind, isn’t it?” Alucard asked.

“So, I think he lasted as long as he could and fled from Ploiesti trying to live.”

“Which makes more sense,” Alucard rested his remaining hand on his chin, “But, let’s think together, if you were in search of a new body, would you choose the people we met?”

“No,” Trevor shook his head.

“Leo Alexe is rich, but that isn’t of much use for a shadow.”

“That one girl has nothing to offer, I guess, and the old nun is at the gates of death, as you told me. They’re useless in that matter.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘useless’, but you’re right.”

They heard the rain pouring harder on the roof. As they crossed the suspended bridge, they heard footsteps in the corridor and hid, each one of them behind a pillar, without even breathing; a nun passed by with a mount of clothes inside a wicker basket. She seemed to go by without noticing them and they started walking again. When it was safer, Trevor commented:

“The nun in the hospital bedroom told me some things,” he cleaned his throat, “That the troupe from earlier is the one to blame for the curse. That it started since they arrived here.”

“I have another hypothesis,” Alucard raised a finger, “What if it’s the church?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Katrina goes to the church. Leo goes to the church. The old nun went there in recent times… It’s not hard to draw that conclusion.”

“What if it’s both?” Trevor frowned.

“Well, it’s not impossible,” they stopped walking, “It’s here.”

“It looked like a long trip, just as everything with a leg like mine.”

Alucard gave him the stinky eye.  _ Shut up about those bruises for a single second, please. _ They knocked on the door and Sypha opened it.

“Nice timing,” she gestured for them to come in, “She’s trying to sleep.”

She pulled trevor in for a greeting kiss. The old lady, laying on her side and facing the wall, asked her:

“Who’s there, girl?”

“My brother’s back, and my husband is here. Don’t worry.”

Trevor stared at the old lady, then looked at Sypha with a frown, opening his mouth to protest to be silenced with Sypha’s finger.

“If they know how to be quiet, they can come in,” the old lady grumbled.

Sypha headed to the table and lit a new candle with the remains of the old one. She asked the old lady:

“Is it really alright that we do this?”

“I already told you that it is, and don’t bother me again with that. You’re lucky that the candle won’t wake me up. If you want to talk, leave.”

They looked at each other and left the bedroom, closing the door. Sypha whispered:

“Do we have a plan?”

“Uh, no?” The other two said at the same time.

“I do, then,” she said, “I think of closing the room with a seal, wait for the shadow to show up, and see what happens.”

“It might attack,” Trevor warned, “What about then?”

“Then I’ll try to freeze it. Using fire here would burn the building to the ground.”

“Can it cross objects?” Trevor asked.

“We don’t know,” she shook her head.

“Did it see you?”

“We don’t know either.”

Trevor put a hand on his chin and said:

“Well, so, in case it attacks us, I’ll-”

“Come back,” shouted the old lady from inside the bedroom, “I remembered a thing.”

“…I’ll take care of it,” he completed, with the other hand on his short sword handle.

They opened the door and the nun was again sitting on the bed with her legs crossed. She started:

“There is a chant. It’ll calm down even the maddest of the men. In my land, they said it would heal the possessed. Maybe it is of some use for you. The boys look sturdy, but anyway. Listen.”

She recited the words, a series of rhythmic verses with specific intonation and a particular melody to it, also with exact word lengths; it was not a marvellous song, or a voice trained in singing as the tavern keeper’s, but it had its mystic, strange beauty.

“Repeat with me, girl,” the old lady said, “The other two as well, until you learn.”

They started the song together with her and were interrupted in the very first verse:

“No. You right there,” she pointed at Alucard, “Let your voice out. You’ve got one, don’t you?”

They went back to it. Three verses later and she prevented them again:

“You,” she pointed at Trevor, “Straighten your shoulders.”

Trevor let out a sigh and did so. They returned to repeat the chant. It was Sypha’s turn to be corrected:

“Girl. Speak as if for a whole theater. Don’t mind if someone hears it.”

With the bedroom sealed shut and in the candlelight, under the spell of their own voices and the rain sounds, the existence of a world outside was erased as they rehearsed, each time closer to the ups and downs of the old lady’s voice. In the end of the nth repetition, when the afternoon was coming to an end, she declared:

“I’m already tired. It’ll have to do,” she laid down and pulled the blankets, “Now, good night.”

They waited in silence until the old lady seemed to fall asleep. Sypha went for the door and the window, locking them with a seal, and went back to her place.  _ Is she shaking? _ Alucard frowned. Trevor asked in a whisper:

“Nothing?”

“It’s not working,” Sypha shook her head, “Let’s try the chant. Alucard?”

“Yes?”

“Can you start?”

“Are you sure? I was the worst one of us.”

“I’ll repeat it with you, but I have to keep an eye on the seals.”

He closed his eyes. The three initiated the verses in a slow pace, until they synchronized, the different voices tangling in the air. Alucard felt a hand holding his own; Sypha was by his side. They tied a new beginning to every end, repeating and repeating, as a nursery rhyme, with the strong rain as a background. Alucard noticed his head feeling lighter, and so did his body, as if he floated, but not even a millimeter above the floor. His fingers started tingling. When he opened his eyes, he felt like waking up, and saw something materializing over the nun’s body.

“There,” he whispered.

Sypha let go of the hands she held and started chilling the room.  _ She’s going to freeze the thing… Or to try it, at least. _ The shadow spent quite some time lying atop of the old lady and raised its upper body.  _ Hmm. _ It got up backwards, the old lady facing up on the bed, and the shadow on its stomach, moving slowly with its long members to support it. It turned its head the same way.  _ Does it move like that? _ When the faceless head noticed them, it pounced on Sypha like a lynx.

Sypha had time to perforate the shadow’s chest, then colliding with the wall and falling to the floor. Without enough space to use the whip, Trevor retributed the attack jumping to grab the shadow and throw both of them to the ground, holding it by its waist. It got rid of him without breaking a sweat, also throwing him against another wall, then getting up.  _ This room is fucking tiny.  _ Alucard side-eyed his useless longsword and attacked with his claws, scratching the air where the shadow’s neck was before.

Trevor, trying to get up, unsheathed his own sword and brandished it, hitting a blow on the creature’s back. The old lady let out a lament of agony.  _ She can feel it! _ He also saw Trevor widening his eyes and interrupting another blow of the sword. The moment of hesitation was enough for the shadow to grab Alucard by his neck with both hands and get him up in the air, squeezing its long fingers. He tried to breathe and the air escaped his lungs, his head about to explode; he held one of the shadow’s wrists just to feel his strength leave him, his own fingers letting loose of it and his sight getting blurry. In a fast movement, Trevor worked the miracle of entwining his whip around the shadow’s throat and pulling it back, the old nun suffocating on the bed. Suddenly, a cold wave invaded the room and the shadow started freezing from a foot, the ice climbing its way on its long body, until it became a crystal.

Alucard punched the arms that held him in the air and they shattered. He fell to the floor breathing through his mouth and coughing, with a hand on his aching head. He also saw Sypha thrown on the ground, with her hand on the shadow’s ankle.  _ She dragged herself to do this. _ They both raised their eyes to the statue and there was not much time to admire its bizarre form, because Trevor broke it with a kick. The pieces fell, containing the dark matter of the shadow that undid itself in a smoke. The nun was, as well as they were, in a dead silence.

“Is she alive?” Alucard panted.

Trevor staggered to feel her pulse:

“I guess you can call it that.”

Alucard stood up, both of them helped Sypha to her feet, and she recommended:

“Let’s leave her sleeping,” she walked up to the bed and put a hand on the old lady’s forehead, “Sweet dreams, sister.”

Sypha took off the seals from the window and the door, opening it. They eavesdropped the outside, and only the storm made a sound. They left looking for the backdoor of the convent and found one.

“Does anyone want to run?” Trevor asked, looking at the rainfall.

No one agreed to it, and they followed on a slow pace.

_ Here we are again, tired and drenched. _ Alucard opened the doors of the tavern and the male owner, standing on a ladder, tried to patch up a drip in the corner of the roof. He climbed down and showed some surprise upon seeing Trevor’s swollen face:

“Dear God, what happened?”

“Someone tried to mug us,” Trevor answered, “We could run away.”

“I’m just back from the hospital. I can tell them to pick you up,” the owner scratched his head.

“It happened close to there, it’s better that you don’t,” Trevor pulled his soaked pants up to the knee, that was also swollen and changed shades to black and blue.

“Was it a band?” The owner asked, “I mean, to attack three people like that…”

“Yeah. It wasn’t a huge one, but they got us by surprise,” Trevor shrugged.

“Jesus,” the owner looked elsewhere, “Don’t forget to talk to the city guard, when you can. What’s going on with this place lately?”

“Forgive me the intromission, but is Mr. Alexe here?” Alucard inquired, “I need to talk to him.”

“Oh,” the owner gulped, “I thought you would’ve seen the movement around the hospital.”

“What happened, sir?” Alucard felt a shiver down his spine.

“He jumped from the roof. His life is hanging by a thread.”


	9. Curse - Part II

Only the rain dared to make a sound. The woman keeper came back from downstairs with a small glass bottle, pushing the half-open door with an elbow. Trevor lended her the posy of arnica and she began to crush it with a wooden macerator. Her husband arrived shortly after with strong beer for three, revoking the upstairs drinks prohibition for a while, also giving them a new jug of clean water. All three were sitting onto the bed, and Sypha hid under the blankets the frozen mug she applied on Trevor’s bruises.

Alucard touched his neck and felt it excoriated. Alizia stopped dealing with the arnica and approached him with a tin of some ointment. He raised his eyes to look at her and took his hand off of the bruise, pulling the collar of his jacket to the side. She flinched, but applied the medicine anyway.  _ Is it that ugly? _ He felt it sting and bit his tongue. The woman whispered:

“Get well soon, sir,” she closed her eyes and shook her head, “Be very careful. These are dark days around here.”

“Thanks a lot, ma’am.”

She turned her back. He remembered seeing her with an infant daughter in her arms and noticed the veil that covered her pinned hair, linking it to the delicate brownish stains she had on her cheeks. She talked to trevor about the arnica tincture that still needed to tan, and what she said was but a blur to him, his heart way too busy missing Lisa for him to care about it.  _ My mother would not take care of me without scolding me first. _ He smiled alone.  _ What would she think of me now? _

The tavern owners left the bedroom making themselves available if needed. Alucard looked out of the window and tried to project the fall.  _ To me, it would feel like nothing. _ However, to Leo Alexe, it was almost a death sentence. How many bones did he break? Would he last much longer?  _ And, mainly, why did he do that? _ He rested a hand on his chin and remembered having beer in the other, drinking a long sip of it. From the corner of the eye, he saw Trevor do the same and Sypha still not touching her mug.  _ We can’t stay here and rest forever. Not now that we know how to break the curse. _

“Where are we going now?” he asked.

“Good question, for which I don’t have a good answer,” Trevor sighed, “Where should we go?”

Alucard reminded Katrina’s desperate cries, from the back of his mind, and suggested:

“To the stable, perhaps. The girl seemed pretty troubled.”

“And Leo Alexe attempted suicide,” Trevor shrugged.

“But he isn’t locked in a bedroom for days straight.”

“Isn’t it the case for us to split up?” Sypha went back to applying the cold metal mug, “We don’t know how each one of them are, but I suppose we have to hurry up.”

“If I have enough space to draw my damn whip without being murdered, I know what to expect now, and I think I can deal with it,” Trevor looked out of the window.

“Are you sure?” Alucard asked.

“Uh, no, but I guess so.”

“You’re not in a position to act on your own,” Sypha interfered, “Not with a leg like this.”

“I’ve done worse in a worse shape. Go and save the girl. I’ll meet you there later.”

Alucard saw Sypha hold her breath. Trevor stood up with some hardship and headed to the table, dripping some arnica tincture in his beer, as well as applying it to his face and knee. He cursed the pain at every step.  _ I almost regret it. _ Himself and Sypha also got up from the bed. Each of them in possession of their cloaks, they climbed down the stairs, and, at the exit, Alucard, with a smirk, patted Trevor’s shoulder:

“Come back alive.”

Trevor replied with an eyeroll.  _ Would you rather a “come back dead”? _ They stared at the rain that would not cease and left in opposite directions.

There was not a single person on the streets besides them. More than just the storm to darken the day, it was the season in which the nights became longer. All the houses had closed windows, and the liveliest thing they saw was a stray dog under a roof, balling up to preserve some heat. Alucard smiled at it, and it ignored the two passing by.  _ I could entertain him if the sky wasn’t pouring on our heads. _

The stable where they had left the horses of the inn was as closed and silent as the rest of the homes around it. They knocked on the door and a short woman answered, one around thirty years old that they had not seen before, with a young boy grabbing her by her long skirt. Both her and the child stared at them with distrust.

“If you need horses, my father isn’t home,” she had a tone of someone who did not want to be bothered, “If it’s a payment, just leave the money, please.”

“Actually, ma’am…,” Sypha began.

“Who is it, Thea?”

The stable owner’s wife, as petite as the woman at the door, showed up with her timid step and quiet voice.

“I don’t know, Mom,” the first woman answered.

“The ones from yesterday,” the other recognized, “What do you need?”

“We know how to help Katrina now, ma’am,” Alucard said.

Mother and daughter stared at each other. Thea asked:

“Do they know, Mom?”

“They were here yesterday, coming from afar. But there was another man.”

“He’s in the hospital, taking care of another person,” Sypha gave them a convincing benevolent smile.

The little older lady stepped back and talked to her daughter:

“Let them in, Thea.”

The other one did the same. Alucard noticed that, by her mother’s side, she was just a bit taller. They headed to the kitchen, and Thea went elsewhere. The three sat by the table as in the day before, and the older woman joined them facing the floor.

“Katrina didn’t sleep yesterday,” she whispered, with a tearful voice, “She’s dead afraid. She talks about the woman, that the woman will kill her. She thinks it’s me, or Thea. The only one that can see her is my son-in-law. He’s here, while my husband and son are away.”

Alucard and Sypha looked at each other.  _ That’ll have to do. _

“Ma’am, with your permission, could I see what’s going in with her?” Alucard asked.

“I don’t want anything worse happening to my daughter.”

“She’ll be fine,” he looked at Sypha, “I’m married, ma’am.”

“I figured,” the lady nodded, “You look like you get along.”

_ Yes, but not… In that way.  _ Side-eyeing her, he saw Sypha trying to hide her embarrassment.  _ Well, let her believe it for now. _ He went on:

“There’s just one problem, ma’am,” he took a deep breath, feeling a shiver, “Earlier, we freed an old nun from the curse in the convent. She suffered. She lived, and sleeps peacefully now, but she suffered. And the same might happen to Katrina.”

The mother looked at him as if she begged for mercy, then staring at the table, sighing hopelessly:

“I don’t want to lose my girl.”

“You won’t, if we do what we must,” Sypha touched the lady’s hand, “I swear, in the name of God.”

_ Clever one. _ The lady nodded and stood up:

“I’ll take you to her bedroom.”

She sent them on a corridor up to a closed door, speaking quietly:

“It’s here. Don’t make loud noises, or sudden moves, she’s startled.”

Alucard stepped forward and knocked on the door, hearing a fearful:

“Who is it?”

“Katrina?” he felt a heartache, “It’s a friend. Can I come in?”

The girl did not answer. He looked at the lady, who whispered:

“She screams when it’s me.”

He gestured for both of them to step back, hearing Sypha comforting the lady when he opened the door. It produced a creaking sound that covered up their conversation. The bedroom was in gloom, with closed windows against any rain and light, and he tripped on a fabric. As he came in, Sypha closed all entrances with bright seals, and he could see Katrina shuddering in the corner of the bed, as well as girl’s clothes on the floor, a crumpled silver mirror, and an open chest.  _ She must have inherited from her sister, that did so from her mother, in this good, God-fearing family. _

“Forgive me my rudeness. My name’s Adrian,” he waited for her to answer, which did not happen, “Could I light up a candle? I can’t really see you.”

“What are you? A doctor?”

“I could’ve been one,” he half-smiled.

He looked for a candle inside some of the inner pockets of his jacket and also hid behind it the hand with which he lighted it up. As he closed the chest and set the candle on it, he saw the shadow hugging the girl from her back. It seemed to be smaller than the nun’s shadow, but it was even darker. He swallowed in dry and asked her:

“How old are you?”

“I’m sixteen.”

“You’re almost of age to marry. Do you think of someone?” he said, and she went quiet, “It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me. I know how are the matters of the heart.”

_ Well, I know less than I’d like about it. _

“Can I approach you?” he asked, about two meters far from the bed.

“You’re going to hurt me, aren’t you?”

_ Sadly, I will. _

“I’m here to take care of you.”  _ And I’ll have to lie a bit. _

He stepped forward and she flinched some more. The shadow turned its ghostly, faceless head, noticing him there, and it hugged Katrina tighter; the girl let out a painful lament.  _ Her curse already appears outside of her sleeping state. _ He pressed his nails against his palms.  _ So, it must already be near the end. _ One more step and she screamed, the shadow grabbing her by her shoulders. Coming from outside, Alucard heard her mother crying.

“You’re hurting me,” the girl stuttered.

“Katrina, it’s not me. There’s a thing with you. It’s a shadow.”

And the shadow shrieked, opening a strange mouth made of sharp teeth, which insides were of an even darker void.

“I know,” Katrina answered.

“Do you see it?”

“I see it, and I also hear it,” she pointed at her ears, “In my dreams. It changes shape. It’s been lots of people. It is a woman now.”

Alucard sat carefully on the edge of the bed, while she was near the frame, and he asked:

“For how many days are you not sleeping?”

“This is the second one.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s going to kill me.”

The shadow chuckled.

“I don’t think you deserve it, Katrina.”

She said something that he could not understand.

“Pardon me?” he frowned.

She made a gesture for him to come closer. Alucard dragged himself for half a meter on the bed and put his hand around his ear. Katrina whispered:

“I’m a sinner.”

“Whatever you did, I don’t think you’re a sinner.”

The shadow put its hand on her throat. Katrina began to cough and to free herself. Alucard got up and grabbed the shadow by its neck, splitting them apart and throwing it on the wall. The creature got up, showing off long legs that made it almost as tall as him, and it stared at him as if it had eyes. Alucard relaxed his shoulders and made an unsmiling face.

“Nice work you did.”

He tackled it unarmed and they fell to the floor. With attention, he did not let it reach his neck, ducking it and dodging those mortal hands with slender fingers. The shadow pushed him and he lost advantage. From above, it tried to grab Alucard’s face, and he blocked it with a hand; when it noticed it would lose the wrestle, it attacked him with its knee. Alucard lost his breath and the hand he used to block loosened. He lost track of how many times he was punched in the face until he had the impulse to throw the shadow against the wall again.  _ It’s not as strong as the other one… _ Tasting blood in his mouth, he got up as fast as he could, and still, after the shadow.  _ But now, I’m alone. _

He raised his guard and tried to punch it; the shadow was fast and flexible to dodge it. Its long leg gave him a sweep kick and Alucard fell again, hitting his head in a corner. He felt being stomped on his ribs, arms, and legs. He waited for another kick that took long to hit; he felt the temperature of the room lowering.  _ Great. _ Alucard pulled the shadow by its foot, it fell as well, and Katrina’s lament was deafening. Alucard’s body burned from the blows, and he pounced onto the shadow with his forearm against the creature’s throat, holding its strange hands above its head.

“Beat it,” he whispered.

He let go of its throat to pierce its head with his long nails. The shadow’s sinister scream was as loud as Katrina’s cries, and Alucard could not tell which one of them lasted longer. The ice covered the entirety of the shadow’s dark body and climbed up to Alucard’s wrist. He pulled his hand to set it free and it broke on the region of the statue’s head. He finished breaking it with his feet, until nothing remained but cold shards on the bedroom floor. Panting, he let his weakened arms hanging beside his body and stared at the ice, feeling himself trembling. Alucard turned his head to see Katrina, crying in the corner.

“It’s over,” he got closer to her and kneeled beside the bed.

The room darkened when Sypha undid the seals of the door and the window, and lit up again when she entered the bedroom with a big flame in her hands. Katrina hugged him with little strength, and he could feel how cold her minuscule body was. Alucard opened his jacket to embrace her.

“You were so strong,” he quietly told her. She was shaking from head to toe, “It’s fine. It’s over now.”

She unburied her face from his shoulder and faced him, her face undone in tears. Alucard lent his hands so that Katrina would hold them. She murmured:

“It’s gone,” she sobbed, “But it hurts so much.”

“See this,” he pulled the collar from his neck.

As she saw the strangling marks, Katrina widened her eyes and asked:

“The thing did it?”

“Other thing, but yes,” he took a deep breath, with a throbbing face, “The one who was scaring you, was it a woman?”

“It was. She had a knife,” she nodded, “Look. She did this to me.”

Katrina pulled up her nightgown to show a deep, purplish scar on her thigh, near her knee. Alucard felt his heart tight. He heart the short steps of the girl’s mother approaching the door.

“Cover up,” he said to Katrina.

One of her arms still held him, and she would not stop trembling. 

“Will I stay like this?” She asked.

“I don’t know, sadly.”

She began crying again, and he let it happen.  _ Sometimes, it just has to leave us. _ He had another idea:

“Can I teach you a thing?” he suggested. She got her face up, without an answer, “Can I?”

He let her go and sat on the edge of the bed, facing her, with his legs crossed. He took a deep breath and straightened his back.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s a song. An old chant. It’ll help you sleep.”

From the corner of the eye, he saw Sypha stepping in the bedroom some more, but he gestured to stop her, and she stepped back.

“Repeat with me,” he held out a hand for Katrina to hold, “Try to imitate me as I sing it.”

Alucard did his best to reproduce the verses taught by the old nun.  _ My voice is a disaster. _ Next, Katrina tried it on her own, with a voice as small as herself. He went back to the beginning, and so did she, at the same time, losing her breath from all the crying. When she could breathe again, the third time was better then the second, and so it followed, until they could not count anymore what time it was and Alucard found it enough.

“Very good,” he complimented her, and was serious. He sighed, “I hope you can forgive me for what I’ve done. It was the only way.”

“I know,” Katrina let go of his hand, “The shadow told me in a dream. What I did to it, it would do to me.”

“Are you really alright?”

“I am.”

She opened her arms and hugged him a second time.  _ For a girl that age, she isn’t very embarrassed of me. _ They broke the hug apart and he got up from the bed, looking at the door. He nodded and Katrina’s mother came in, running for her daughter, as if they had not seen each other for long. Both let out gentle tears, out of relief and joy, more than anything else.

“It’s over, mom,” Katrina smiled, “I’m fine.”

Alucard looked at Sypha, and he was sure to see her clean a tear from her face.

~

“What are you doing here again, sir?”

The nun that assisted Trevor during the afternoon saw him arrive at the hospital’s door, drenched and with a painful knee.

“Did your state worsen?” she had a huge bunch of keys in her hands.  _ I’m right on time. _

“Yes and no. It’s a long story,” he scratched his head, “To sum it up, what’s going on is: the recent patient. The overweight one, green clothes, fine-tuned moustache, who tried to kill himself. He’s cursed.”

The nun covered her mouth with both hands. “Dear god, speak quietly of those things, sir.”

“Is he talking in his sleep already?”

“I’m not sure,” she shook her head, “I was going to another wing.”

“Before you do, show me where he is.”

She guided him to another one of the public bedrooms, a different one from the one he was in earlier. It was, however, just as full of beds, patients, and nuns as the previous.

“This one,” she murmured, standing besides a bed.

Trevor approached an ear and noticed Leo whispering. He saw a shape of an arm and one of his legs put in splings, and his face wrapped in a bloody cloth, believing Leo was with his eyes closed. Trevor got a torch from the wall without asking for permission and walked by the corridors, without finding a thing. The nuns and the awake patients began to look at the scene he made.

“Sir, don’t disturb the ill,” the nun requested, “And you are still convalescent.”

“I’m fully better, don’t you see?”, he raised up his voice from a whisper to an ordinary volume, and it echoed in that lugubrious room. Trevor also had a huge smile when he felt a sting on his knee, “Hear me out, everyone. Space. I’ll need some space. Sisters, protect the ill. There’s a cursed man on the room. Repeating: a cursed man on the room. This will turn into a mess.”

He cracked his knuckles and hardly could kneel, searching on the floor… Until he saw the shadow holding onto Leo’s underneath bed frame.

With the best reflexes he could pull out, Trevor grabbed the Morning Star and whipped under the bed. He felt the tip of the whip hit something, and believed it to be the shadow, that could escape and crawled into some dark corner.  _ Damn it. _

“The torches, please!” He hoped to be speaking loud enough, “Or else I can’t see it.”

Scared and screaming, some nuns did not fulfill his request. The patiens that could move looked from a side to the other. He repeated:

“Torches! Torches up!”

He saw the creature in a corner of the room, not too far from there, leaving his own torch on the wall again. He drew his sword, charging against it. The shadow parried the blade with both hands, and Trevor used it to push it afar. It climbed to the roof, as if it had four paws, and made a sound that reminded him of a laugh. With the other hand, he whipped above, in hopes to hit it again, but it jumped from a place to another like a spider. The floor and the walls of the place felt the impact of the Morning Star, cracking as it hit them.  _ It’s close now. _ Armed and ready, Trevor waited for the shadow to jump with his pointing sword and it pounced, not on him, but on Leo.

With another blow of the whip, Trevor entwined the shadow and pulled it closer. He could cut it on its chest with his sword before it set itself free, holding onto the whip with its hands. Leo moaned in pain. He pulled it stronger, and the shadow had its feet on the floor, ripping the wooden tiles, until he was close enough for another slash, this time, on the shadow’s jaw, making it stagger. Trevor jumped onto it, piercing it with the short sword on its head. It agonized, producing a screeching sound before it turned into smoke. Trevor felt his body giving up and collapsed onto the floor, with tears running from the corner of his eyes, and the last thing he heard and saw was a nun going for him.

He opened his eyes again and found himself lying on a bed, with the same nun that attended to his needs by his side, and in the same bedroom where Leo was. When he turned his aching head to look around, the nun handled him a mug.

“What is it?” He frowned.

“Willow tree tea, sir. It’ll ease your pain.”

“Does it have alcohol in it?” He pointed at the mug.

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

Trevor sighed and straightened his back to grab the mug. He drank from it and, it tasted like wood. The people in the bedroom murmured and complained.  _ Everything’s back to normal, then. _

“Is Leo alive?” He asked.

“The patient? He seems so,” the nun looked elsewhere, “He’s been crying in his sleep, but there’s no trace of the demon you fought.”

Trevor said a “meh” and left his head fall to the side. “Sister, when can I leave here?”

“Tomorrow, if you’re lucky, I believe,” she sighed.

“Tomorrow? There are people waiting for me.”

“Are you from Ploiesti, sir?”

“No,”  _ Jesus Christ, will I have to run away? _ “I’m a host in a Tavern around the Tree. The same one as Leo.”

“I’ll allow your departure if someone comes to pick you up, sir.”

He grumbled and went quiet, hearing footsteps from the corridor.

“Where are we?” Said a familiar voice near the door. The old nun appeared, escorted by another sister who held her arm and answered:

“We’re in a hospital bedroom, Mother Bethania.”

“I suspected it by the smell. Clean this place properly. And where is he?”

“Come with me, Mother,” the nun guided her to Trevor’s bedside.

“Here?” The Mother asked.

“Yes, here, Mother. Stretch your hand.”

The old lady’s wrinkled hand touched Trevor’s shoulder, then tapping up to his face, right on top of the bruise. He hated Alucard for a second.

“The hurt one with a beard,” the Mother stated, “What are you sniffing here?”

Trevor lost a second coming to a conclusion. “Mother, are you blind?”

“I wasn’t until this morning. But I became so, after the mess with that shadow of yours. Why does it matter? It’s been so many years I have poor eyesight. But answer my question.”

He explained her about the shadow possessing Leo and the merchant’s suicide attempt. All the other nuns listening to it turned up their noses on the subject, except for the Mother. “Poor man,” she said, with little compassion, “I hope he lives.”

“Me too, Mother,” he took a deep breath, feeling exhausted and sore, “Among other things, I’d really like to be released from here and to sleep on my bed tonight.”

“I understand you quite well. This hospital bed is a nightmare. Sister Sibila?” She spoke to the nun that held her arm, “Go find a covered wagon for this man. What’s your name, son? I still don’t know it.”

“I’m Trevor.”

“Fine name. Trevor what?”

He hesitated, but maybe it would make him leave faster. “Last one of the house of Belmont, ma’am.”

The other nuns crossed themselves, but the Mother did not bother moving. “A lacking family. The world was a better place with you all.”

He breathed easy. They waited for about half an hour, until said Sibila came back drenched in rain and with news that bothering a wealthy neighbor worked for borrowing a wagon. Trevor bid farewell to Mother Bethania with a hug and a pat on the back, whispering her a “thank you”. Before they left, someone put in his hand a fabric bag with more willow tree bark.

The neighbor’s coachman conducted silently under the rain, told to go to the tavern, as disgruntled as Trevor to be there in that place and time. The skipping of the wagon was hell on his aches, and the willow tea was just a little aid. He stared at the bark and thought of chewing onto them.  _ They must taste like ass. _ Trevor left the vehicle with some hardships and opened the door of the tavern. The owners, who waited tables, looked at him with fright.

“Are those two back?” Trevor asked them, “The two from my bedroom?”

They shook their heads, with the same widened eyes.  _ I must look like an used rug. _ He was back to the wagon, wetter than before, and spoke to the coachman, “To the stable in the north exit, please.”

**~**

Sypha blew out the candle on the chest, removed it, and sat atop of the closed lid, still with fire in her hands. Katrina’s mother brushed her daughter’s disheveled hair with a crying silence, using a soft brush that was thrown on the floor before. Sypha looked to the ground and rolled an ice shard with a foot, ice that melted onto the floor with the new heat in the bedroom. A shiver went down her spine.  _ I didn’t do much except for closing the room, but… _ She observed Katrina, and she retributed Alucard’s chant with a children’s round song, that was slightly different from what Sypha recalled.  _ It must be a regional thing. _ Alucard stopped repeating the lyrics and paid attention to something coming from the outside; Sypha soon heard footsteps on the corridor, and a man, that must have been Katrina’s brother-in-law, came together with Trevor, who had a limp leg, was soaked in rain, and had a blue face. Sypha and Alucard stood up, and the two remaining women only looked at the door.

“How are things around here?” Trevor asked.

“They’re fine now,” Alucard pointed with a hand, “Trevor, this is Katrina. She’s free of anything now.”

“Hello, miss,” Trevor forced a smile, “As you can see, I’m not in the best of my days.”

“Me neither, sir,” Katrina shook her head, “I can’t stop shaking. I can’t even hold a cup.”

“You’ll get better, and I will, too.”

Sypha sighed and looked around, the bedroom in full disorder, the scratches on the walls. Trevor held out an arm for her, who snuggled under it, and they both felt the strange look of the girl’s mother.  _ Well, let her think whatever she wants. _

“We’ll be leaving you now,” Trevor said, “Get well soon, Katrina.”

Outside, the coachman waited for them with an icy look. They got into the wagon and left for the tavern again, hearing Trevor telling them in little detail about the shadow underneath Leo’s bed, and in extensive detail about how his knee hurt. Alucard had disdain on his face.

“And that old lady, the Mother,” Trevor remembered, “She’s blind now.”

“Really?” Sypha asked.

“She didn’t seem to care much,” Trevor shrugged.

Arriving the tavern, they turned around the place and knocked on the back doors. A boy from the kitchen answered it, looking scared, and analyzed them at them from head to toe.

“We’re from the middle bedroom, with straw on the floor,” Trevor pointed up, “If you’ve been there, you know we’re telling the truth. Please, let us in, we don’t want to draw more attention.”

The boy closed the door. Trevor cursed him many names after that, and Sypha could not avoid a snort. She lit up some fire, and they stayed there, under the edge of the roof, staring at the storm. Suddenly, Trevor asked no one in special:

“Why was that lady back in the stable giving me a mean look?”

“I lied to her,” Alucard answered, as if he had not done anything.

“Oh. Was it?” Trevor frowned.

“I had told her that me and Sypha were married, in order to-”

“You did what?”

There was silence.

“Exactly what you’ve heard me say,” Alucard shrugged.

“Sypha, is that true?” Trevor raised his voice.

“Yeah. So what?” She replied. “What’s the problem-”

“What are you two up to?”

Sypha ran her free hand over her face, disappointed, and begged, “For God’s sake, wait us finish speaking.”

“There’s nothing to explain about such a thing,” Trevor turned his back.

She and Alucard waited for him to turn around the building towards the rain. Sypha put out the fire and created an ice wall, in which Trevor slammed his face for the millionth time that day, looking down as he walked. He fell to the ground and she approached, stepping on his chest, since he rolled face up.

“You’re staying here and listening to us, you hopeless beetlehead,” she crossed her arms, “Now, get up.”

“It’s sort of hard with a… Foot on top of me.”

Sypha removed her foot and he got up. “What’s you guys excuse?” Trevor asked, “Were you afraid the lady would give you her daughter, Alucard?”

“Stop supposing things for a fucking second,” Alucard rolled his eyes, “What did you want me to do? I’m an unknown, grown man. Imagine your vulnerable daughter, in an enclosed space with a man she doesn’t know. Your daughter showing an ugly, deep scar on her thigh to that man, without a hint of shame. What would you do?”

“I wouldn’t lie to the person who’s with me for almost a year,” Trevor gave Sypha a mean look.

“She didn’t lie to anybody, Trevor.  _ I _ did, and that was all. And, honestly? It wasn’t even meant for you. I told you the truth, period. I was too busy hitting that damn thing. You know how troublesome they are. Use your brain, let the lady find strange whatever she wants, it’s none of her business.”

Sypha pressed her forehead with a hand and put out the fire again. The kitchen boy opened the door again, saying they could enter that way. 

“Leave him there,” she sighed, “Let’s come in.”

Alucard followed her and they crossed the kitchen without looking much to the sides, but thankful for the warmness. Sypha had the key, and they climbed to the bedroom to leave the drenched cloaks.

“Let’s go to the saloon,” Alucard shook his head, “Staying upstairs will just get us in more trouble.”

“I know that.”

They headed downstairs. It was not a concert day, so there was only conversation to hear, to a volume that Sypha would rather not have to stand. They sat as close to the fireplace as possible, and most of the occupied tables had the best places. They ordered a cider for each, without an appetite, even with that many hours without eating. After finishing the mug, she looked to the bottom and accepted when the waitress offered her another one.

“You know, it’s the first time me and him have this sort of problem,” Sypha looked at the crackling wood, “When it was just the two of us, this never happened,” she did not see if Alucard was staring at her, or if he was even listening, but she went on talking, “Anything like this was solved leaving the next day. There was no real reason to lie.”

“He could’ve come in and figured out things, if he wanted,” they both got their heads up, and Alucard looked at her, “It’s not like we forbid him to do it.”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “It’s hard to deal with him when he drills a thing in his head. He sees things another way only after some time’s gone.”

“Why don’t you talk about yourself for a moment?”

Sypha opened her mouth to reply and felt the words escaping her. “As, for example?”, she asked.

“I don’t know. How are you feeling?”

“Maybe…” She took a while to formulate, “Maybe like all of us. Exhausted, in pain, and cold.”

“Tell me about it,” Alucard sighed, “But go on.”

“It’s easier when I ask the questions,” Sypha laughed.

“You can do it. Tell me about what’s been on your mind,” his hand reached for hers with a brief caress.

Sypha held her breath for a second and took a gulp on the cider.  _ May it help me speak. _ “Well, one of the things is that…” She began, “I think this case isn’t near its end. I mean, we know how to eliminate the shadows now, but not how are the people possessed. And, if we keep going this way, dealing with one at a time…”

“…I don’t think we can take it, either.”

“I guess we’ll have to leave the city after dealing with their source,” Sypha looked down with a low spirit, “We can’t save everyone.”

“And that bothers you?”

“It does, you know. I wish I could do more.”

“You already do a lot,” Alucard smiled, then left the happy semblant behind, “You shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. I am the one creating more problems than I should.”

“Don’t say such a thing. If it wasn’t you, the nun and Katrina would be dead. You saved two lives.”

“And you two would’ve saved the same two lives without me.”

“Alucard, maybe we’d be dead without you.”

He closed his eyes, pressing them with his fingers. “That’s not true.”

“Of course it is,” Sypha held herself back not to raise her voice and gently grabbed his forearm on the table, “Stop that kind of thing.”

“I caused nothing but problems for you both. I’m sorry,” he started to get up and Sypha held him stronger. Alucard sighed and opened his reddish eyes to stare at her with some disbelief.

“I’m not going after you,” Sypha felt like being assertive, “Stay here.”

He eased on his arm and sat down again.

“It was no one’s fault,” she went on, “It had to be done, you said it yourself ten minutes ago. What’s wrong with you?”

Alucard seemed at a loss of words, looking for them in the flames. “That’s what I mean about being sick. There are moments in which I just can’t do it.”

It was her turn to gently rub his forearm with her thumb, over the jacket, and letting him go. “And is it one of those moments?” She softened her voice.

“One of many. It’s something that haunts me.”

“I wish I could understand how you feel.”

He laughed with a shade of irony. “And I don’t want you to understand,” he drank the remains of the cider, “I don’t know if you understanding me would help.”

“What would, then?”

“Writing, it’s what’s working. Things seem clearer when I see myself that way.”

“What way?” She asked.

“As if I’m a foreign thing I’m studying,” he looked at his own open hands, “Ias if I needed those strategic details to attack myself.”

“So, it is like you were fighting yourself.”

“Yes, one could think that way.”

_ How much can we do for you… And how? _ Sypha sighed. “What if you come to destroy yourself in that fight?” She thought out loud.

He had a sad smile. “It’s harder to kill me than it looks like.”

_ And there’s no lie in that. _ Sypha had the same smile. “You’re strong, Alucard.”

“It’s not like I deserved my strength.”

“I could bet that you do deserve it,” she looked at her empty cider mug.  _ Trevor’s still outside _ , “Are you thinking the same as I am?”

“Maybe,” Alucard frowned, “Are you picking up the golden child outside?”

“Spot on. Wait just a second,” Sypha left through the front door in order not to bother people in the kitchen and turned around the building. She had her hood on and dodged the rain water with her hands, manipulating it to fall besides her. Trevor balled himself up in the dark by the back door, underneath his drenched fur cloak, “Come in,” she called.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“You’re so rude.”

Trevor said no more. Sypha got closer and put a hand on his arm; she felt him shaking and lit up a flame on the other hand. He did not look at her, not even for a moment. 

“Come on,” she pulled him.

Sypha noticed his regretting semblant, but he did not budge. _Alright, talking will work now_, “Trevor, _you_ like when I wear another man’s shirt. _You _make unfunny jokes about adultery. _You _want to do risky things with me in a place where you can be seen. And now, because we had to tell a necessary lie that wasn’t even for you, you’re making it harder? Stop it and come in. I still have to take care of these bruises of yours.”

She untied her thinner cloak and covered him with it. He seemed thankful, but did not say a word.

“Don’t stay out here in the cold anymore,” she said.

He pulled her in for a quiet hug, and they looked at the rainfall.

“I was an idiot,” he kissed her cheek.

“You were.”

“I believe you guys.”

“You should do, from the beginning. Come. I’ll pay you a round.”

“Really?” He hugged her tighter.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” She frowned.

Trevor grabbed her chin and kissed her, in that way he only did when no one was looking.


	10. Hypnotic state

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone, how are you? Finally, long awaited Netflixvania season 3 is out. I've watched all of the thing in a single night and was left absolutely heartbroken. If you'd like to talk to me about it, please leave a message! 
> 
> This story was planned months before S3 and is spoiler-free.

Trevor grudgingly opened his eyes, even if the bedroom was dark, and the first thing he felt was a backache. It was hard to tell what hurt the most: his face, his knee, his back itself, or some other detail that went by unnoticed. He buried his face in the pillow and rolled slowly towards Sypha, lying in the corner of the bed. She woke up and caressed his chin with a hand, dragging herself closer for a hug, too close, as he liked to be. The touch reminded him of the night before, the ice she applied on his bruises, the medicine she prepared, her gentle hands massaging whatever could be pressed, and also his retribution; Sypha had less wounds, but not enough for him to ignore it. As they lied in bed, he heard her recite Mother Bethania’s chant for him in a nightly whisper, and, in a silence where there was only rain, it filled the bedroom whole.

All of a sudden, Trevor felt the bed behind him moving, and he peeked over his shoulder to see what was that about. Alucard got up from it and searched the baggage.  _ Did he sleep here? _ From where Trevor was, he could not see the straw to check if it was messy or not.  _ Well, whatever. _ From the corner of his eye, he saw Alucard eating a bunch of hard oat bread with a side of honeycomb. Trevor closed his eyes again, and lost himself in the hug until he heard a metal clang on the floor. Both on the bed had a scare and rose up to see a fallen water cup, and Alucard looking at it with an awkward stare.

“Sorry,” he said.

They did not reply and went back to the bed, under the tranquil bliss of that morning. 

“He’s not feeling well,” Sypha murmured as Alucard left and closed the door.

“None of us are,” Trevor shrugged and hugged her tighter.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

He sighed and turned face up with a painful lament. Sypha snuggled on his left shoulder.

“You know, I’m thinking of taking a day off. Maybe tomorrow as well,” he brushed aside some hair on his eye, “My leg feels terrible.”  _ And I really, really want to pay it back. _

Sypha stroked his chest. “Well, it doesn’t sound bad in the slightest.”

“But, about what you told me,” Trevor said, “I’ll try and talk to him.”

**~**

Alucard climbed upstairs with a fabric bag in a hand and a hot mug of willow tea in the other. No sunrays entered the upper floor through the glass panels, in that gloomy autumn day. He took a deep breath and felt like his energy was back, head to toe. The beautiful window had a railing where he could sit. He left his paraphernalia on it when he sat and opened the bag, which contained the journal and the quill. He assembled it, wet it in the ink and began.

_ “It would be plausible if I wasn’t back to write this next page, but here I am. Yes, I know: the mind works in mysterious ways. Sometimes, I’d like to erase myself, as one cleans dust from a table, but yesterday, I found myself in the border between life and death, and I fought desperately in order not to cross it. Not only for my own life, but for the ones of those people there, who counted on me, and I can say I counted on them, too. _

_ Katrina, the girl I mentioned before, is alive and well. Out of that mad state, she seems like a sweet, well-mannered girl. She’s sixteen, and didn’t talk much about herself to me, which I fully comprehend. She has an older sister, nicknamed Thea by her family, and I suppose Theodora, who gave Katrina a nephew, and also an older brother, who was away, so, I had no opportunity to meet. Before the infelicity, it’s not hard to picture them as a common, hard-working family, a God-fearing one, faithful for the future. _

_ Leo Alexe, our fellow host in the tavern, with whom I talked very briefly, is also alive. Trevor says he didn’t wake up until it was time he left the hospital. Leo jumped from the tavern roof, resulting in two broken limbs, maybe some broken ribs, and God knows what goes through his mind right now. The old nun, who we found out to be a Mother named Bethania, also had a heartbeat when we left her sleeping, but she’s way too experienced and hardened by life to let herself be disheartened by the blindness that’s now a part of her. It’s still a question mark for us, however, the origins of the curse of Ploiesti, as well as other more efficient and less demanding ways to fight it, besides fighting each shadow, one by one. _

_ If there are other cursed people in the city? Well, I believe so, and I ask myself if we should deal with their shadows. Sypha inquires herself the same, since we are all in poor condition, and it isn’t the easiest of jobs. She’s the less wounded one. My neck suffered some injury, such as my face, and the rest of my body as well. Trevor is in a similar situation, and as a plus, he has the bruises I caused. I regret them only a little. It was his idea. _

_ About them both, now. Sypha, you’re first. Since I’ve met you, I appreciate your company, your conversation topics, the way you see the world, how you deal with things and people. I think you’re talented and dedicated. You have a healthy sense of humor. I worry about you, because I think you’re way too selfless. And, well… I’d be lying if I said there’s no beauty in you. You have delicate, pleasant features, despite your aesthetic choices, and my old clothes suit you very well, what I guess she knows.  _

_ Now, Trevor. I don’t hate you, and I don’t want you to die. You’re insolent, rude, cynic, and, believe it or not, you run away from many problems, even if you caused them: ‘it’s none of my business,’ you say, and jump out of it as if you had not laid a finger on what happened. But I also admire your wit, ingenuity, strength, and skill, all of those being attributes out of the ordinary. You’re no ordinary man, of course. You’re a Belmont, even if you’ve been once a wandering, drunkard, pauper one. Well, to be honest, you’re still a wanderer. And a drunkard… And a pauper. However, there’s a notable difference that the time made, and, why not?, love, too. _

_ And why am I talking about it:” _

“Are you busy?”

Alucard lifted his face and saw Trevor standing in front of him. “Not enough for you to refrain from interrupting me,” he closed the notebook, “You should be in bed.”

“Later. I want to enjoy my day off in this good tavern,” Trevor said.

Alucard frowned. “And you’re inviting me?”

“In a way.”

“Was Sypha invited as well?”

“Me and her weren’t born attached to one another. Come.”

They climbed down the stairs together to the saloon. That time of the day, there were one or two people besides two of the waiting staff, who chatted by the counter. They chose a table near the fireplace, and Trevor put his leg on the opposite chair, letting out a relief sound.

“It would be a nice hour for that bathtub of yours,” Trevor commented.

“How’s your leg?”

“And you still have the balls to ask?”

“I just wanted to catch you off guard,” Alucard put both hands up.

“Be ready for retribution. I won’t warn you either.”

One of the waiters got up from the counter to see if they wanted something, and the drink of the day was mulled wine. The mug was steaming, and the taste was watery, but somewhat flavorful.

“It’s well seasoned,” Trevor looked inside the mug, “It tastes like nutmeg.”

“It seems so.”

“Well, to what matters,” Trevor approached him and started speaking quieter, “I was thinking. Sure, we saved those three. What about now?”

“Are you talking about being paid for it?”

“Not just that. What I mean is: this kind of thing doesn’t sprout from the ground.”

“Correct,” Alucard had a moment to think, “There were three cursed people, four if you take the burglar of Sohodol into account. It doesn’t seem like they know each other, and Heaven knows how many already died. Why?”

“Exactly,” Trevor put a hand on his own chin, “What would anyone want with this? It doesn’t smell like revenge. Or like a hunt for cash.”

“The hypotheses that come to me are creating chaos… Or taking lives.”

“This other mug of yours. What is it?” Trevor pointed.

“Willow tea,” Alucard looked at the bottom of it, “It’s over now.”

“So, give the bark to that young man there, and ask him to bring me one.”

They called the waiter and ordered him to boil more of the analgesic.

Trevor began talking again. “Well, if we think by the chaos side, do you think someone plans to weaken the city in order to invade it?”

“That’s not what it looks like. Or, if it is, it’s very inefficient. The people are afraid, not panicking. There are no arsonists or bandit groups, nothing like that.”

“What if we forget that, and think of the victims’ lives hypothesis?”

“Lives are things that all of them have… Or had,” Alucard remembered the strangled burglar he had not seen, and touched his own neck, “Do you think a burglar would go to the church, Trevor?”

“Why do you ask?” Before Alucard had a chance to reply, Trevor went on, “Well, thinking about it, maybe. Not everything is black and white.”

“I’m asking because the church seems like the only connection between the other victims.”

“That’s a possibility. And what’s in this church that curses people?” Trevor asked.

“It’s our job to go there and find out.”

“‘Our’ is too strong of a word. I need a break today,” Trevor spread his body on the chair.

“Why? There’s a mass today,” Alucard chuckled.

“I can’t believe it,” Trevor rolled his eyes, “Can I, like, pass it?”

“You can. I’ll go, and leave you here resting.”

Trevor sighed with a relieved smile. “I won’t kick you as a reward.”

“Thank you.”

“Maybe just a sweep kick.”

“Come on, save it.”

“Warn us when you’re leaving,” With a muffled laugh, Trevor finished the wine, stood up, and left the table.

Alucard nodded and waited for him to disappear into the bedroom to go back to the journal pages.

_ “And why am I talking about it: it’s complicated. I was here when they both met; chasing after me made them meet, to tell the truth. They wouldn’t be together if it wasn’t for things working out in accordance to an ond prophecy, heard from the future by the Speakers. They’re together, and that’s a fact.” _

He swallowed it dry, feeling a palpitation, and started tapping his foot lightly on the floor.  _ Come on, it’s not like somebody’s reading. _ The other two knew he kept a journal, but why would that matter? He waited, trying to calm down, took a deep breath, dipped his quill in the ink, and forced himself to finish that line.

_ “And I am, right now, with an internal, personal confusion that has a lot to do with one of the elements of the couple. There resides the problem. _

_ When it began happening is something in which I can’t exactly label a date and time. However, it was born like a poisonous weed in me. Just like a plant, the more time it passes, the more it tends to spread its branches and roots while it is nourished. It is an existence that feeds on the presence around me, on the voice that talks to me, the gaze that crosses mine, and, therefore, it’s not dying any time soon. And then, I ask myself, and I ask her: what I feel is, by any chance… What you feel, too? _

_ What if it is? What am I going to do? What are we going to do? I always have the option to leave without looking back, leave them to their destinies without my interference, but that would be abandoning them to the hands of the fate, in a world where luck is a rare good. The castle, my castle, my home where I was born and raised, is there to receive me with doors wide open, so that I sleep until I’m awaken again in a distant time, due to whatever disaster. _

_ But… Why would I do that? There’s no use in lying to myself: leaving them, especially her, is the last thing I want. Sometimes, I think I should, that it would be better, and, in this kind of moment, I agree with that with an unexplainable vehemence. However, it’s like I said to her that day; my true wishes aren’t the same ones as when my personal ghost covers my eyes and whispers in my ears. Despite the wounds, the alcohol, and what’s going on with me, I’d like to stay here, as bad as dealing with the world outside is every now and then. _

_ I’ll be back when I have more elucidation on all that. See you soon.” _

**~**

Sypha heard the hinges of the door moving, but did not make an effort to open her eyes, lost in the midst of blankets and pillows in the spacious bed. She felt someone lying down besides her, and also dismissed any tries of seeing who was it; it was dark in the bedroom anyway.

“You took so long,” she yawned.

“Come on, it wasn’t that long.”

She was hugged again, in that way she knew all too well. “How’s your face?” She asked.

“I can live with it,” Trevor made quite a face, “My leg, though, feels like trash.”

“Arnica?”

“Please,” he sighed.

Sypha left the bed wrapped in one of the blankets to drip a bit of the alcohol solution in a cup of water. “Does it taste good?” It occurred to her.

“No, but I don’t argue with medicine. I argue even less with that one.”

She walked up to the bed and handed him the cup. “Can I taste it?”

He toasted on his own and drank it in a single gulp. Sypha laughed, shrugged, and went back to bed, exactly to the previous position.  _ Would it be asking too much to stop time a bit? _ She was almost sleepy again.

“I didn’t dream of anything today,” Trevor commented, as if he talked to himself, “Nothing, really. I slept like a log.”

“That’s great.”  _ No nightmares and no scares, right? _ She got closer and kissed his face.

“But, about yesterday,” he barely had time to start and Sypha already rolled her eyes, “Can you assure me that nothing happened?”

“Of course not, please. What time would I have for cheating with my hands busy, people looking at me, and a life on the line?”

“I just…”, he hesitated.  _ You’re insecure, that’s what it’s called, _ “I’m just afraid to lose you.”

“I’m going nowhere without you by my side.”

His begging eyes soon closed as she approached their faces and lips. She held him where she knew would not hurt, with a prudent touch.  _ I know you won’t apologize, but this will do. _ She made sure to forget things for a little while. The hands of both of them started moving more freely, and the kiss went deeper. When Trevor was about to pull her shirt up, they heard the door creaking.  _ Shit, it’s unlocked. _ Alucard spent two seconds there until he let out an apology and closed the door again. Sypha and Trevor stared at each other and a nervous laughter escaped from both. They kissed again, more sweetly.

**~**

Alucard climbed down the stairs to the saloon and saw the door of the tavern open, with one of the waiters near it, a young man about fifteen.

“What’s going on?” Alucard asked him.

“I don’t know, sir,” he looked over his shoulder, “Isn’t that the caravan?”

Excusing himself, Alucard passed to see the crowding of people on the Tree square, a cluster around a half set stage. There were screams and cursing words of all sort, and, among them, that they were servants of the Devil. Alucard stepped forward outside of the tavern and saw a huge man with his arms wide open, as well as some guards trying to chase away the crowd.

Coming from above, he heard the window of a bedroom being open and saw Trevor and Sypha popping their heads out of it. Shortly after, they both arrived in a hurry, with messy hair and pulling their clothes to their place. The tavern keeper went back to work and they left the building to see what occurred there in further detail. As they approached, they could hear more clearly a screechy female voice in the middle of the people, shouting every kind of insult and angry instigation. Trevor went ahead opening the way until they came up to a young nun, with her face red in anger.

“Sister, what’s going on?” Trevor asked.

“These bummers spread their disgrace over Ploiesti! It was them. And they wanted to put on their show of the Devil again. I saw, I saw it yesterday, the devil in the hospital. It’s horrendous! And the possessed man won’t wake up!”

“I don’t remember seeing you yesterday in the patients’ bedroom, Sister,” Trevor answered, raising up his voice enough for the closer crowd to hear.

“What are you saying?” The nun had a surprised expression.

“There were many Sisters there, but not you,” Trevor pointed at himself with his thumb, as the people stopped and listened, “ _ I _ was the one to free the possessed man. You hear me? I myself, with this whip here, and this sword right here.”

The people that surrounded them went silent, and the rest of the crowding started doing the same to look at them, some of them whispering.

“Wanna see it?” Trevor opened his arms, “I’m in a terrible state, just check out my face. My leg here as well. But I can show what these two pretty things here can do. Now, who has a cursed person in the family?”

Some of the people raised their hands.

“And which ones of them came to see the troupe?” He went on.

The raised hands lowered, mostly.

“Who came to see the troupe, and nothing happened?” Trevor had a victorious smile.

Most hands got up. “Do you swear to be telling the truth, in the name of God?”

“Don’t say His name in vain,” the nun’s voice sounded hollow.

Alucard saw her eyes darken completely. He stepped back and pushed the people aside to do the same, with his arms open.

“Sypha, lights,” Trevor requested.

She lit up a flame, projecting the nun’s long shadow in that sunless day, while reciting Mother Bethania’s chant. Most of the crowd began to scatter, some of them running in fear and some giving them space. The nun screamed, covering her ears with her hands and falling to her knees while the shadow got up from the ground. 

“This one’s on you,” Trevor grabbed his sword and threw it to Alucard.

“What am I supposed to do with this kitchen knife?”, he frowned, unsheathing the short sword.

“You should do your best,” Trevor pointed at the nun on the floor with a head motion.

The shadow jumped atop of the troupe’s wagon and perched there, as if it it was four-legged. Very few curious people from the riot remained there. The troupe grouped up on the roots of the Tree and the guards had their spears up. The troupe’s horses started to panic, and a young man ran to appease them. Alucard looked at the short sword and sighed.  _ Well, there’s no time to pick up mine. _ He pounced onto his target.

The new shadow was quick and jumped from there to a roof with an aerial stunt. Alucard did the same, from roof to roof. Each slash of the short sword had a miscalculation, and the shadow walked in reverse, as well as skipping, turning its head in a full spin to see where to go. Alucard stepped forward and had to retreat in order to dodge Sypha’s icicle, millimeters far from his face. She threw some others, that the creature avoided gracefully; Alucard had to jump not to be pierced by some.

The shadow went to the Tree top, grabbing its weight on the branches, and Alucard had to enter them. He tried to hit it as he jumped from branch to branch. When he got close enough for a succeeding slash, a slap from the enormous hand threw him afar on the pavement. He stood up, dusting his clothes when he saw the shadow spotting who shot the icicles. It pounced onto Sypha, and she had time to turn her face and see it.

Trevor’s Morning Star entwined the shadow’s feet like a bola, dragging the creature’s weight on the ground. Alucard approached it in a slow step and avoided its arms by stepping onto them. The shadow turned its face backwards and, with its deep voice, from a mouthless face, it echoed:

“Nice to meet you.”

_ See you in Hell. _ “Shut up and die,” Alucard replied. He pierced the shadow’s head with the sword, burying it deeper until the deafening growl ceased.

When the dark body began to turn into smoke, he looked around and saw the guards tending to the unconscious nun, putting her on the Tree’s roots. The shadow disappeared into thin air, and the three approached the caravan, that still shrugged behind the huge man that protected them.

“Thank you,” the man said with a strong accent, “Thank you very much.”

“You’re not from here?” Trevor asked.

“No, he’s French,” a woman approached, the singer of the troupe; she was also a tall, slender woman, with dark hair in a low ponytail, “Thanks as well. We would be all dead if it wasn’t for you.” She sighed. “My name’s Rosa. I believe to have noticed you yesterday?”

“We came yesterday, that’s true. I’m Adrian, pleased to meet you. This is Sypha, and that is-” He looked to his side and did not see Trevor. He was in a corner, exchanging sentences in French with the huge man.

“Does that guy there speak some French?” Rosa asked Sypha.

“Yeah, it’s a family thing,” Sypha scratched her head, “I can read some of the language, but…”

“Read, huh?” Rosa had a broad smile.

“A bit,” Sypha shrugged, “I never came across many books in French.”

The girls sat on the Tree’s roots to talk, while Alucard laid back onto its trunk, listening to the chat with his arms crossed. He got some details, like Rosa speaking of her role as a storyteller in some presentations, and the unusual names of some of the artists. One of the guards that watched the nun approached Rosa, ordering that they had up to the next day’s sunset to leave Ploiesti. Rosa said “yes, sir” and “no, sir” enough until he was satisfied

“There was and there is enough disarray. I hope that you understand,”, he finished and left.

“Happens to the best,” she shrugged, talking to Sypha, “‘The people this’, ‘the mayor that’... We sort of lasted long here in Ploiesti. Which is good. I like this place.”

“It’s been a troubled time so far,” Sypha had a gentle smile, “But that’s great, I guess.”

“The things you find here…” Rosa had another kind of smile at her.

Alucard muffled a laugh when he saw Sypha speechless and with her face beet red. “I…” She stuttered, “Well, how to put that into words…”

“It’s a shame,” Rosa sighed, “Friends, then.” They shook hands without much conviction from Sypha. “You know, I’ve been trying to distract my heart. I met a charming young girl, but it’s so hard to see her… I don’t even know where she lives. We met when she gave me coins, like you almost did yesterday. I saw her sometimes behind a smithy, but it looks like her parents locked her away. I think they found us out.”

“What’s her name?” Sypha asked.

“Oh, she’s Katrina.”

Alucard widened his eyes.  _ That one Katrina? _ He remembered the girl’s whisper in the night of horror.  _ “I’m a sinner.” This is what she was talking about. _

“Forgive me my intromission, but we know what happened to her,” he approached them. Alucard told her everything he thought he could, and, in each sentence, Rosa grew more scared. 

“And how is she now?” She asked, as if she begged.

“She had a tremor when we left her,” he shook his head with a heartache, “I don’t think it’s gone.”

“Good lord,” Rosa said.

There was a bell toll, not too far from them. The church near the Tree struck its bell to announce the upcoming mass, and the sound woke up the unconscious nun. She had barely opened her eyes and started screaming in panic. Trevor and a member of the troupe, a pubescent boy, ran to her.

“My legs,” the nun was ecstatic, “I can’t feel my legs!”

“You,” Trevor called the boy, “I’ll put her in your wagon. Tell someone to take her to the hospital.”

“Right, sir,” he nodded.

Trevor picked her up from the ground with an uninterested face, and she gave him a stinky eye.

“They told me there was a Belmont in the hospital,” she said. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

He did not answer.

“Heretics,” she had anger in her voice. Trevor went on ignoring her, “You should leave this city and never come back.”

“Get well soon, Sister. God bless,” he dropped her on the back of the wagon without a trace of kindness.

The Frenchman and the dancers disassembled the stage as fast as they could, and the carriage soon left.

The more the bell chimed, the more people approached the Tree to the mass, sneaking in the streets and avoiding the caravan.

“And to think I just wanted a day off,” Trevor grumbled when he approached the other three.

“Did I hear Belmont?” Rosa stared at him from head to toe.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Is there something about you that I don’t know?”

“Maybe a lot of things,” Trevor scratched his head, “Why?”

“I’ll pay you a drink and you’ll tell me all of them later. Where are you staying?”

The three pointed at the tavern at the same time.

“Men of culture, I see,” Rosa commented.

“Now, if you allow me, I really want to jump into that bed,” Trevor stretched, “Hit me up if the world’s on fire or something.”

He kneeled to kiss Sypha and patted Alucard on the shoulder before leaving, which he replied with a friendly mean look.

“Excuse us now, Rosa, but we’ve got a mass to attend,” Alucard said, “Look for us in the tavern later, if that’s the case.”

“Actually, sir, there’s something you could do for me right now,” Rosa got up.

“And that would be…?” Alucard frowned.

“I’d like to meet Katrina before I left Ploiesti.”

“Go with her,” Sypha also stood up, “I’ll go to the mass.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Alucard nodded, “I’ll be back soon.”

Rosa followed him towards the city gate where the stable was, looking around with curiosity.

“Where do you meet?” Alucard asked.

“If I turn to the left a few times, I believe I’ll find it.”

“Wait there,” he signaled at her to go, “Be right back.”

He knocked on the door of the stable and it was answered by a thin young man he did not know, one maybe a little older than Alucard.

“Horses, sir?”

“Actually, no,” Alucard stuttered, “I would like to talk to your mother, if you may.”

The man gave him a strange look and left. Soon, the petite lady appeared and recognized him, still with her worried semblant.

“Mister Adrian,” she said, and he caught a glimpse of a spark in her eyes, “What brings you here?”

“I come to see how’s Katrina.”

“Come, please, come. She’s in the kitchen with me.”

Stepping inside that home weighed a lot less than before. The girl was sitting at the table with an embroidery hoop and a started work. She left her needles as soon as their eyes met, and she ran to hug him.

“It’s good to see you, too,” he smiled at her. Katrina let him go, but it was enough to feel her tremor, “How are you?”

“Better. But look,” she held out a hand so he could see her fingers trembling, “I’m trying to embroider. It’s for my nephew, but it’s taking twice the time.”

He remembered the blind Mother and the nun in the riot, who did not feel her legs.  _ I could lie to you again, but I won’t.  _ He gave the piece a good look, a grey contour of a bird.

“It’s very good. Is it a duck?” Alucard asked.

“It is. The kids like them,” she nodded, “I like them, too.”

Katrina’s mother walked from a side to another in the kitchen while observing them, among pans, pots, and wooden spoons. 

“The other two didn’t come, sir. Why?” The lady approached to ask.

“They’re hurt and tired, but under good care.” Alucard smiled.

_ Now, please, don’t ask me about my wife. _ He stopped himself from laughing at his own joke. 

“I’ve got something for you. Come with me,” he whispered to Katrina when her mother turned her back on them.

She nodded.

“Can I go for a walk, Mom? I’ll be home early,” Katrina asked.

Her mother pondered with her always worried look. “Today’s a mass day, Katrina. We should go and thank for the blessing of your cure.”

_ And that’s the last thing you’re going to do. _

“I’ll go with her, ma’am. I’ll make sure she arrives home safe.”

The lady considered with her head low, until she gave them a pass. She helped Katrina put on good shoes, and she said goodbye to her mother with a graceful wave. They left arm-in-arm, and Alucard noticed that it was hard for her to reach him.

“Would you like me to lower it?” He asked, laughing.

“Please, sir,” she replied with the same good mood.

“You don’t need to call me ‘sir’. I’m younger than I look.”

“How old are you?”

“I turned eighteen this year.”

“It really looks like more,” Katrina frowned.

“That’s what people tell me,” he brushed away some hair from his eye, smiling.

“Where are we going?”

“For a walk, as I said.”

“But you don’t know Ploiesti,” she stared at him, “Mother told me you and the others are outsiders.”

“I know where are we going,”  _ I actually don’t.  _ He had a moment to think, “To be honest, can you show me where’s the smithy?”

She let go of his arm and stepped back twice.

“How do you know?” Katrina asked, terrified.

“You can trust me,” he held out a hand, “I won’t tell anyone.”

The girl hesitated until she grabbed his hand, and she trembled more than before, guiding him there. They turned around the place and Rosa waited there, throwing a rock in the air, until she heard them arrive. Katrina ran towards her and they hugged with tears in their eyes.

“I can wait around here,” Alucard said, “I’ll leave you home later.”

“It’s fine, I can go back on my own,” Katrina dried her face.

“I don’t think your mother will be happy about it,” Alucard frowned.

“I can leave her there, as a gentleman should do,” Rosa laughed.

Alucard shrugged and left to the tavern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rosa/Katrina is my religion.


	11. Reanimation

Sypha entered the church and went for the church pews in the middle: close enough to watch what happened, but far enough from the front ones to avoid unwanted attention. She took off her hood to get in.  _ Thank goodness I’m not poorly dressed.  _ She looked down to her shirt, borrowed from Alucard, She also wore a sand-colored scarf, that she pulled up a bit to cover some of her face. A family sat by her side, one with five children of various ages, pretty silent ones in comparison to what she expected. She looked around.  _ Nothing’s out of the ordinary so far… Except for a Speaker in a church. _ She avoided laughing.

The mass began with the rite of songs she recalled from books. The choir was on tune and well rehearsed, and, some songs later, the austere priest started the sermon. He spoke of family, protection, and care, with a voice that went up and down as the Mother’s chant, and a fixed, piercing stare. Sypha felt like snoozing on the pew when she heard one of the boys from the family asking his mother some sort of question, followed by a request of silence. She woke up against her will to hear the priest.

“Because, in times like these, one needs to be wary. The Devil works, and, many times, it works quietly. Therefore, suspect what the world offers you, and keep your faith in God.”

Sypha squinted her eyes to see him better. The priest did not gesticulate much, and also walked very little on the altar. The sermon went on with the same tone of an alert, up to the final readings and the communion wafer. She had the chance to face him closely and see his serious semblant, that already had some wrinkles, but she did not hear more than a “may God bless you” and did not taste more than flour in her mouth. 

A hint of disappointment hovered over her when she left the church.  _ Well, at least, there were beautiful glass panels. _ Under the Tree, that did not resemble the riot from the previous hours, she saw Alucard sitting on a root, looking at the passing time. He noticed her approach.

“How was it?” He asked.

“It was fine… But weird,” she scratched her head.

“Wait, how?” He laughed.

“Let’s go back and I’ll explain,” she noticed the notebook in his hands and could not hold herself back, “What are you writing?”

“Nothing, right now. Let’s go,” he stood up.

The afternoon came to an end and a cold wind hit them outside the tavern. Inside it, the lit fireplace attracted the customers, and it was pretty crowded. She saw Trevor on one of the tables in a corner, with his foot on Rosa’s lap. The rest of the troupe was also there, even the younger ones, occupying the rest of the tables around. The singer looked at Trevor with an attentive curiosity, that had none of the flirtation with which she courted Sypha earlier.

“And we also had a sort of beacon that…” Trevor stopped speaking and turned to see the newcomers, “Hey. Pull some more chairs.”

They bothered customers from other tables to find empty chairs and stools, and Trevor made sure to sit Sypha by his side, holding her under an arm and kissing her with no shame at all. When she could breathe again, Sypha noticed a small blonde dot by Rosa’s side, with a mug in front of it.  _ Huh? _ Katrina was hidden from most of the passers-by, but she was a visible fish out of water in the rowdy tavern. However, she carried a laughter of someone who was having lots of fun.

“You should be home,” Alucard spoke to her, with a light reprehension tone.

“I won’t take too long,” she dragged her mug on the table, “Look, they gave me wine with tea.”

She did not raise her mug to drink, with her trembling hands, and had to drink from the edge of the cup.

“It might be sweet, but be careful, or you’re going to have a bad time,” Sypha warned her, half joking.

“I think everyone already said the same,” Katrina shrugged.

_ The things we do when we’re sixteen. _ Sypha ordered a cider to a waitress and listened to Trevor’s excited stories about his family and the Hold. Rosa buried him in questions, just as enthusiastic and maybe just as drunk as he was. Sypha left aside scolding Trevor for it; he usually spoke nothing of the past, and it was even rarer that he did it with a smile.  _ I don’t want to ruin the moment. _ Sypha corresponded his gallantry and pretended not to notice his occasional indiscreet pinches. The tavern table ended up becoming a long lecture on the Belmont family tree, among other details and hitches on the clan’s history.

Before it was dark, the members of the troupe got up and organized for a departure. Sypha noticed the poorly hidden held hands of Rosa and Katrina, and the evident smile, looks, and awkwardness of both. Rosa bowed to say goodbye.

“We’re stopped by the exit to Targoviste, and, in the morning, we’ll be already far from here,” she poked Katrina on the cheek, “And this fair lady will be home, in her warm bed at eight sharp, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the girl laughed.

_ They’re way too calm about it…  _ They all left on foot, waving back, and the three stayed in the tavern, going back to their seats.

“So, the church,” Sypha let out a tired sigh, “It looked like a mass, just like any other. But the priest… Something was off with him.”

“Something?” Trevor frowned.

“He did not move much, and he spoke like… Like he was reciting a poem, or if he was singing. And he was serious, as well as any other priest, I guess.”

Sypha remembered when she approached him in the moment of the communion wafer.  _ His face…  _

“Wait,” she felt a shiver down her spine, “He didn’t blink.”

All three went quiet.

“What are the chances that he’s cursed?” Trevor dared to say.

“What are the chances that he’s dead?” Alucard replied.

“Let’s see what’s in that church,” Trevor took his leg off of the chair with a pain grunt and bended it under the table, “Actually, you two go there. I still need a ton of that arnica thing. Now, I’ll accept that you carry me upstairs.”

“Who, me?” Alucard pointed at himself with a smug, “I hope you’re kidding.”

“I was never this serious. Do it, and I won’t kick you. I promise, this time.”

“Really?” Alucard got up.

“I give you my word.”

Alucard laughed and crouched to pick him up. “Be careful.”

“Tell me about it,” Trevor replied.

He carefully raised Trevor’s weight, who complained anyway. Sypha and the whole tavern stopped anything they did to look at it. 

Alucard stepped forward. “Get a hold of yourself.”

“Get a hold of me, too,” Trevor wrapped an arm around the other’s neck.

Sypha sprinted on the stairs with the keys and opened the door as they arrived. Alucard let him fall on the bed like a potato sack.

“Ouch,” Trevor moaned, “Thanks.” He stretched. “Sypha, can you deal with the bandages?”

She lit up a candle and approached to remove them from his knee, cleaning the arnica remains and making a new plaster, the way the female tavern owner taught her to do. Trevor sighed in relief and spread himself onto bed after she finished. He also asked someone to bring him hot water for the willow tea, and Sypha went to find a waiter downstairs. The tavern keeper himself brought her the mug, cordially asking how they were.  _ It’s very mindful of you, but we’ll have to lie a little bit. _ As he closed the door, Sypha kissed Trevor on the cheek and told him to rest.

“It’s what I want to do since I woke up,” he replied, conformed.

Alucard, this time, remembered to pick up his sword.  _ And I really think we’re needing it. _ They looked outside the window a last time to certify of the lack of traffic and descended onto the ground.

**~**

Trevor wrapped himself up with the blankets. It was colder in the bedroom than around the fireplace, in the full saloon. He drank the tea in sips, looking at nothing specific. Still, his thirst got to him, one that he could get rid of easily paying the price of pain in his knee, climbing down the stairs. It was quiet enough upstairs; a fertile ground for thinking.  _ And I don’t want to think. _ He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, leaving the mug on the floor and lying down on the bed, turning from position to position until he gave up seeking for comfort. Little by little, his leg hurt less, but his rush to use the tavern for what it was made was already gone. _ I don’t want to think. _ But it was hard to stop himself.

The first thing that occurred to him was a voice, then a face; his father’s, a safe haven, a rock, but with a heart. Then, his mother, whose mood changed like the weather. His siblings, the eldest and the middle, each of the three with a toy replica of the weapons they would use someday. All of them arrested, taken wherever they were, and he never saw them again.  _ I couldn’t even bury them. _ The fire, that ate everything on the surface of the majestic Hold with it, turned to ashes every concrete memory of his, except for what was underneath. The days he spent left on the ruins, digging up a burnt animal to eat, without knowing where would he go next. Sohodol would not accept him, not even as a beggar, then he wandered and wandered until he did not know where it was anymore. He stored the things he could gather from the wreckage in a roof gap, like a treasure the world could not rob, and he slept dreaming of the day he would wake up on his bed after some strange nightmare. When he was aware there was no more traces of the presence of the other two in the bedroom, he had been crying for long.

_ “You’re sad all the time. You don’t even notice it now.” It was easier when I didn’t.  _ And it was also easier when Sypha was there to listen, or to hold him until the sensation was gone. She knew a lot already, and one day, she would know everything; it was not like he would save her from the truth.  _ But I don’t want her to understand me.  _ And would someone? He grudgingly remembered Alucard.  _ He does, I guess. _ He cleaned his face with his hands, what was of little use; he still sobbed. He grabbed the pillow until his fingers became bloodless, and only let go of it when he did not feel them anymore. He breathed through his mouth, his chest swirling in pain, until his energy was gone, and, in the end, he slept.

**~**

Sypha turned around the church to illuminate the way towards the priest’s housing and the graveyard, and Alucard followed her. The residence was attached to the back of the building, and it had elongated, narrow windows, too shut and too stuck.  _ The main entrance is also locked. There’s only…  _ Alucard looked up to the bell tower, then to Sypha.

“Do we climb there?” He asked.

“Why not?” She shrugged.

They both levitated up to the top, near the big bell. The trapdoor opened with a small effort and some noise, in the absolute silence there was before. They climbed down the stairs side by side. Alucard saw Sypha misstep on a broken corner covered in sludge and almost roll down the spiral; he was fast enough to hold her by her waist.

“Be careful,” he whispered, letting her go without further ado.

She thanked in the same tone and grew the flame that guided them. On the ground floor, the door was unlocked, and it opened to a small, dusty hall, which exit might have been to the back of the altar. Alucard could see his own footprints on the floor.

“This place is in need of some cleaning,” he scratched his nose. “And this smell…”

“Fantastic, huh?” Sypha sneezed.

“No, I’m not talking about the dust.”

He headed to one of the three doors, lightly stepping on the wooden floor, that would creak a lot, and signed for her to approach in the same silence. He opened it and they walked up to the found bed. There was a body lying on the white sheets, dressed in a cassock, with its head on a big, dark spot. The bedroom started to smell like putrefaction.

“He was dead,” Sypha stuttered. “He was already dead in the lecture.”

She stepped back and dimmed the flame. The corpse left the bed and jumped onto them with its stretched arms.

Alucard was fast enough to draw his sword and parry the blow. The body corresponded by grabbing the blade with both hands and making an unexpected force to its front. Alucard felt like being pushed, and he brandished the sword with a careful spinning slash. It avoided Sypha and threw the corpse on the bedroom door, shattering the wood and giving a chance of an escape to the altar to the enormous shadow controlling it. The body remained at the doorstep, thrown as a ragdoll, moveless. 

“I’m growing fed up of this,” Alucard complained.

He sprinted to the altar and Sypha followed him.

In the hall of the church, she projected a broad seal on the main entrance with a hand. The light was enough for him to see the shadow once.  _ Now, I’ve got plenty of space. _ He charged onto it and took a blowing kick he had to block with an arm. Another slash, and the shadow dodged it kneeling and disappearing into the darkness. Sypha increased the radius of the flame, but he could not see it yet. Then, she set fire to the great cross in the altar. The shadow laughed like a maniac.

Alucard found the creature on the ceiling and charged against it another time. They jumped from a corner to another with a blow after another, avoiding stepping on the glass panels, while the shadow ran from him in a high speed.

“Sypha, freeze!” Alucard shouted.

With the remaining hand, she began to chill the air around them. Alucard hit a slash and its strength threw the shadow to the floor, right on the church pews. He propelled himself from the ceiling to the floor with his sword pointing at the apparition’s head. When he pierced it, the shadow did not cease laughing a wall-shaking laughter until it disappeared.

The fire on the cross started to spread, and Sypha attracted some icicles that formed on the roof to throw them onto the flames. It did not extinguish them, and she manipulated the holy water near the door to put them out at once.

“Do you think we drew any attention?” Alucard asked, panting.

“It doesn’t matter,” she shrugged. “They’re finding it out tomorrow anyway.”

They left through the same passage and floated from the bell tower to the window of the tavern. As they closed it, Trevor woke up in a scare, looking around. When he saw them, he let himself fall onto bed again.

“How was it?” Trevor asked.

“The priest was dead,” Alucard sighed. “He wasn’t  _ too _ rotten.”

“Damn. What else?”

“I also set fire to the whole church,” Sypha put out the flame and laid down to rest. “What about you?”

“I did as I told you, and I intend to keep going,” Trevor stretched and turned to his side.

“Let us all rest, then,” Alucard sat on the straw pile.

**~**

Trevor felt his head hurt and opened his eyes against his will, without a clue of what time it was.  _ Is that sun outside? _ He smiled alone, and heard rough knocks on the door, getting up to unlock them. A mean-looking guard and two of them behind him examined him, and he felt a shiver down his spine. From the corner of the eye, he saw Sypha and Alucard waking up with the commotion.

“Are you the Belmont?” The guard inquired.

“It’s me. Any problem, sir?”

“Come with us. The three of you.”

Trevor stepped forward and the guard barred him with an arm. “Leave the weapons behind, pal.”

Trevor sighed, removing the Morning Star from his belt and dropping it onto the bed. The other two stood up and Trevor did a head motion so that they followed him. They climbed down the stairs, observed by customers and workers alike, and went outside, surrounded by the guards. 

“Hands in the air,” the guard raised his voice, “You’re all under arrest.”

_ I can’t fucking believe it.  _ The other two guards tied their wrists with a strong knot of thick ropes. They walked up to a building that Trevor believed to be the city hall, turning around it. In the back, one of the guards opened a trapdoor and told them to go dowh the stairs, in an almost complete darkness.

The corridor was broader than the one in the small prison of Sohodol, but not any less suffocating. Each guard directed one of the three to an empty cell, leaving them with tied hands and under the watch of another guard, sitting on a stump not far from them. The cells were locked, and each one of them fell seated on the floor with their own distaste. Sypha tried to say something that no one had time to understand; the guard demanded silence.

The hours went by all the same, counting the bricks on the wall, until Trevor heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and identified the first guard under the little light of the prison.

“On your feet, Belmont,” he unlocked the cell. Trevor obliged and stepped out of it, “Walking ahead of me. Go.”

“Am I a free man already?”

“No.”

Following on the opposite direction from where they had come, he climbed another set of stairs and the guard opened another trapdoor, which took them to the inside of the city hall. In a more amicable room, full of papers that the guard probably was not able to read, he was also told to sit down. The other two guards were by the door, on standby.

“If you interrogated everyone like this, instead of using red-hot spikes, maybe you could get better confessions,” Trevor smirked.

The guard did not laugh. “Where were you three days ago?”

“On the road to Ploiesti, sir.”

“You, as well as the other two?”

“Precisely.”

“How about last night?” The guard asked.

“I slept like an angel, on the same bed you found me earlier.”

The guard stared at him with reprehension. “What did you do the last few days, then?”

“Oh, a bunch of things. What should I tell first?” Trevor told him of the shadow hunting, since the episode with the Mother up to Leo, leaving aside the endeavor of the night before.

“We know of such shadows. The people saw them,” the guard sighed, “By any chance, did any of your friends down there do some sort of  _ work _ in the church?”

“It’s pretty possible, sir.”

“We think so. The priest’s dead.”

_ What a surprise. _ “And what do I have to do with the priest if I was in the tavern at night, under the sheets, sir?”

“The priest was seen walking and speaking by half of Ploiesti yesterday.”

“And I believe he was dead all along, as my friends told me, and as you may have noticed already. It’s the kind of thing the supernatural does, you know? The people would know more about it if my family wasn’t just a tale to tell.”

The guard looked at him as if he was a mouse on the corner of the room. “The young girl you mentioned. What’s her name, Katrina?”

“Yes, sir. She was one of the victims of the curse.”

“Do you know where she is?”

Trevor felt a hint of worry. “I have no idea, sir.”

“So, back to the cell. On your feet.”

They walked back to the basement without talking anymore.

When he began seeing the end of the tunnel to the dream world for the thousandth time, Trevor heard a metal clang and footsteps from some corridor. It was short until the unpleasant guard appeared, not escorted by the two big men from before, but escorting a small person.

“A visitor, Belmont,” the guard murmured before he left.

In the dark of the cell, his eyes took a while to identify Mother Bethania, who was facing another way. He called her and she looked for the sound, turning her head carefully.

“How have you been, Mother?”

“I already tripped five hundred times. But the thing is gone. It didn’t torment me anymore. Are the other two here? The boy and the girl?”

“They’re in other cells.”

“If they left you together, you would’ve already burned this building to the ground,” the Mother laughed, “You, in the corner. Why did they arrest him?”

The guard in the corner, who was supposed to watch them, was snoring like a pig, but did not reply.

“Don’t even try, Mother,” Trevor laughed as well.

“I know you’re there. Don’t pretend you can’t speak,” the nun stomped with a foot.

The guard gave them both a stinky eye. “What’s wrong, Mother?”

“What are these three accused of?”

“Killing the priest, vandalizing the church, and the disappearance of a young girl.”

“Disappearance of whom?” Trevor frowned.

“Did you do this, Belmont?” The Mother turned to him.

“Me? No.”

_ What the hell? _ Trevor connected the dots on the detail the guard let out about Katrina. He looked at Alucard, who shrugged.  _ It was your doing, wasn’t it? _

“How about the church, was that you?” The mother inquired.

“I’d like to, but I’m afraid I didn’t do it.”

“I heard the priest is also dead.”

“I haven’t even seen him before, Mother.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong man,” she spoke to the guard, who said nothing.

Trevor sighed and laid back on the wall. The guard started snoring again.  _ Wait. _

“Mother, how’s that chant again?” He asked, as if he wanted nothing from it, “My memory ain’t good anymore.”

“You forgot it already?” She put her hands on her waist, “These youngsters from today. Listen closely and remember it this time.”

From the corner of his eye, Trevor looked at the guard at each new verse, until he saw him let his head down forward, with a drool thread dripping out of his mouth.  _ That’s it! _

“Mother, grab the keys,” Trevor whispered, “Walk two steps to your left and get them on the guard’s belt.”

As soon as she turned towards the sleeping guard, Trevor heard the sound of the trapdoor opening. The Mother also turned her head in the direction of the noise and froze in place as a statue. The guard that interrogated him approach and told them to stand up. The guard on the end of the corridor was properly poked to be awaken and to handle him the keys to set them free.

“Could you do us a favor and untie us?” Trevor asked, showing his tied wrists.

The guard ignored him, pushing him forward with the other two and guiding the Mother by the hand. They were only untied after going through the trapdoor from which they entered. One of the big guards waited by the exit with a fabric bag and a rolled paper, handing it to the chief guard.

“Can you read, or should I call the registrar?” The chief asked.

“Gimme that,” Trevor stretched his hand and unrolled the document.

_ “Through this document, the city of Ploiesti thanks the three travelers for avoiding the conflict of the people and the itinerant troupe, as well as the freeing of Sister Sofia from the cursed shadow that controlled her, an event testified by the public eye. It also thanks for the discovery of the death of Father Ivan; it was investigated in journals of his handwriting that he stated to be under the same curse. The city solicits that the travelers set free how many citizens are within their capacities. _

_ However, the church on the Tree square finds itself deteriorated by suspected action of the same three travelers, and the paid amount corresponds to the initial intended value, subtracted the amount required for restoration of the church. _

_ May God bless and protect you,  _

_ City Hall of Ploiesti.” _

_ God damn it, how come? _ When Trevor took his eyes off of the document, the huge man put a fabric bag in his hands with little care.  _ It weighs a lot less than I expected. _

“And now you’re a free man, Belmont,” the chief guard chuckled.

Trevor bid farewell to Mother Bethania with a hug and a whispered “thanks” for her attempt. He gestured at the other to so that they followed him. They wandered until they found themselves by the Tree once again, then heading to the doors of the tavern. Trevor stretched his neck before he came in, looking up hopelessly to the sky a last time.

The male owner received them, leaving a full dish on a table, then approaching them. “Is everything fine, sir?” 

“‘Fine’ isn’t quite the word,” Trevor shrugged, “Is everything fine around here?”

“Thank God it is. I confess that the people here weren’t talking about other than you,” the owner came closer and started whispering, “You three have a gift of getting into trouble…”

“Let’s say it’s intentional,” Trevor laughed, “The bedroom awaits.”

“Suit yourselves,” the owner went away.

They climbed upstairs. Inside, Trevor gave Sypha the letter and Alucard approached to read as well. Trevor sal their faces turn into the same one he made behind the city hall. Sypha, however, burst out in a confounded laugh, apologizing for it. She folded the paper and put it in the middle of a book on botanics that he saw her read in more than one occasion.

“I actually want to throw it away, but paper is paper,” she sighed, “I suggest that we get the hell out of here as soon as possible.”

“It was exactly what I was going to propose,” Trevor got back the Morning Star and tied it to his belt once again, “Let’s leave before they start asking us to work for free. Let’s just go downstairs. A willow tea and the bill wait for us there.

**~**

After a knock on the door, the owner of the stable was finally home. He asked them if they were there for horses, as he would do with any customer, taking a second to recognize them. He told them to come in, more lively than in the first time, and his wizen wife, keeping the stove lit, also received them with the joy her manners allowed. The man almost begged for them to sit by the table and split among all the remaining cabbage rolls from dinner. None of them dared to refuse, after a whole day fasting in the cell.

“I’ve heard the news,” the owner said, “We are in eternal debt with you all.”

“Is Katrina all right?” Alucard asked.

“She is, thank God. I don’t even know how to thank you. But…” The man hesitated, “I think she’s entering that phase.”

“What do you mean?” Alucard laughed up his sleeve.

“She spent the night outside. She’s never done that before, and doesn’t want to tell us where she was.”

“A good grounding will solve that,” Trevor shrugged, speaking with a full mouth.

_ Something tells me that grounding made you no good boy. _ Alucard continued eating quietly.  _ And shall my trickery not be found out. _ Concentrated on the cabbage, he heard over the conversation where Trevor negotiated saddling horses for discount, despite the nightfall. The owner denied it.

“You can go wherever you want, and that will be on me,” he smiled affably, “For my daughter.”

As they got up, Trevor went to help with the horses in spite of the refusal. They left the kitchen to meet the cold outside, in a wind that foreshadowed rain. While he looked around the movement of lanterns and saddles, Alucard heard a side window of the house opening and a figure jumping out of it, running in his direction, and hugging him. 

“How are you?” He asked.

“Are you leaving already?” Katrina said, “At a time like this?”

“To your room, Katrina,” her father ordered.

“They saved me, Dad. I’d like to say goodbye.”

Alucard noticed that she was still shaking by holding her hand, and felt a heartache.  _ Maybe it’ll never leave you. _ He let go of her, and she stared at him with a gaze a thousand times more vivacious than the time he met her.  _ No wonder. _ He heard the girl’s father tell her to go back to her bedroom, what she did not bother answering. 

She requested that Alucard crouched to whisper in his ear. “Rosa will come back next year. She’ll take me away.”

_ Sorry? _ , he thought of saying, as well as “don’t do that”, but he swallowed his own words. “Be careful,” he ended up choosing.

She disguised it by kissing his cheek and he got up again.

“What about the embroidery you were working on?” He asked.

“It’s hard to finish like this, so I took a break. But look,” she got up the hem of her dress to show a detail of orange flowers, “I was pretty good on it when I wasn’t trembling.”

“It’s very good. What about the chant?”

“It’s a beautiful song, sir. Oh, sorry. Drop the ‘sir’, isn’t it?” Katrina laughed, “But it is indeed beautiful, and it helps me sleep.”

“I’m glad it’s working. It was taught to me by a Mother in the convent. She sings it way better than me, in case you want to learn it from her someday,” he chuckled.

“I think I’ve seen a Mother in the church before.”

“Quite probably,” Alucard looked over his shoulder and saw the work finishing, “Go back to your room, before you get in trouble.”

“Katrina, go call your brother,” her father asked her, loud and clear.

She left him behind and got back inside through the same open window. Soon, turning around the house, a slender young man showed up, dressed for the cold, with the same light blonde hair as the rest of the family. Alucard inspected the ready carriage and saw in it a rustic beauty, one made to ride with four horses. The young man sat on the coachman’s bench, and the three found their places in the back, finally putting away the bothersome baggage.

“I’ll take you to the city exit, gentlemen, and milady,” the young man looked back, “Where are we going?”

“To the hospital,” Alucard said, before he missed the chance.

“What for?” Trevor frowned.

“I’d like to have a word with Leo before we leave.”

The other three agreed, not caring much. Alucard leaned with his back on the side of the wagon and watched the house as they left. On the door, he saw Katrina’s figure waving, and he waved back with a smile.


	12. Past and gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT ALERT: this chapter deals with Sypha's parental loss and grief/mourning themes. If you're susceptible to that kind of content, I advise that you don't read it.

A bump on the carriage was enough for Alucard to wake up from a short nap. He opened his blurry eyes and contemplated the pale late afternoon, with no bright sunset tones; a thunder announced more of that greyish weather. On the opposite bench, Sypha entertained herself with the botanics book.  _ And, of course, the horses won’t conduct themselves.  _ A neck tilt was enough to show Trevor’s head on the coachman’s bench.  _ Thankfully, he likes it. _ He searched his memory for any dream he had and could not remember one.

He opened his jacket just to certify that the letter to Leo Alexe’s family was still there, in his inner pocket. It was enough to recall the conversation with the poor merchant, broken in many places, just one of the many troublesome trips the three had made to the otherwise pacific hospital of Ploiesti. He found Leo on a bed of a collective bedroom, awaken and ruined. The man, who, in spite of everything, showed finesse and a good education, wept and sobbed like a chile when Alucard kneeled by his side to explain him what happened. Leo asked for God’s forgiveness a thousand times and repented a thousand others. Alucard gently held his shoulder, quiet for most of the time, with no desire to scold him at all.

_ That’s when I had this idea. _ He asked Sypha for a sheet from the occultists’ journal, found both quill and ink, and, in the candlelight, suggested that he wrote down a letter.  _ “Where are you from, sir? Give us an address and we’ll go there.” _ Leo could not write more than two words, so Alucard put the sheet on the stool besides the bed and waited for them to recite it. He got the letter in his pocket to remember the exact words.

_ “Dear Alina, _

_ I find myself, right now, in a hospital bed, in the convent of the city of Ploiesti. Misfortune befell over me: I crashed from the window of the tavern where I am a host and fell from the first floor. My right arm and right leg remain intact, but I broke both left arm and leg on the fall. The sisters still can not tell if I shall walk normally again, or how will my arm be after the fracture. I also broke my nose and my cheekbone, but I am already a lot better. It is, now, the second or third day after the accident; I spent the others unconscious, without being able to eat, see, or hear. I closed my eyes near the window from which I fell and opened them some hours ago, between the walls of the hospital. _

_ My goods are under well care, in the warehouse of the good tavern, and I hope to get better every day, being watched by the skilled sisters. I also hope that God looks after me, as well as after you that wait for my return, our blessed family. No accident will break us apart like that, and I will be back soon, for everyone’s relief. Kiss the boys for me, and a kiss for you, too, my love. _

_ From a very missing, _

_ Leo. _

_ P.S.: Wonder not about the handwriting in most of the lines; I can not write properly. A friend redacted it for me.” _

_ Friend? _ He smiled towards the empty of the road. Trevor called from the coachman’s bench and asked for someone to read the map. Alucard found it in one of the bags to confirm that the next village was still an hour away. They set up camp there, on the roadside, covering the horses against the cold after feeding them, then lighting up the awaited campfire. Trevor was the first one to mention making food, a soup made of dried provisions that was a good call for that chilly evening. Chewing some beef jerky, Alucard watched Trevor and Sypha sitting close to one another, even if under different sheets. When the meal came to an end, Trevor leaned on a pine tree and she laid her head on one of his legs.  _ It must be the healthy leg. He didn’t scream so far. _

“How’s your knee?” Sypha asked.

“Better. I wouldn’t say it’s healed already, but to stop using it helps,” Trevor sighed, “Can you pass me the arnica, please?”

“Are you talking to me?” Alucard pointed at himself.

“To whomever is near the baggage. In that case, yourself.”

Alucard searched for the bottle the tavern keeper filled with the alcohol solution. He looked around to see the creeping plants on which he sat.

“I think we found a lot of these ones,” Alucard plucked a flower and handed it to Trevor with the bottle, “Appraise it.”

“I’m not the one reading about botanics. Sypha?”

“What?” She had a tone of someone who did not want to be woken up.

“Is this arnica?” Trevor put the flower in front of her face.

“It’s easier if you smell it,” she turned to the other side, burying herself in the blanket.

Trevor approached the plucked flower to his own nose and made a face of being convinced. He asked for the posy to tie some more of them to it, applied the alcohol on his leg, and handed it all back to Alucard to put back in the baggage. Alucard himself also laid back on a tree, totally sleepless, watching the snoozing two.  _ How many times they might’ve done the same, and no one was here to see it? _ He let out a deep sigh and enjoyed the silence.

“What’s wrong?” Trevor asked, out of the blue.

Alucard opened his eyes and glanced at him, then facing the starless sky.

“Nothing. Nothing happened, at least. It’s just…”  _ Why am I going to talk to you about it? _ “...In some days, I lament more than in others.”

“And what’s for today’s lament?”

_ Do I really need to talk about that? _ Alucard let out a dark laugh, remembering Katrina with the endless trembling, Leo’s suicide attempt and coma, the hysteric nun not feeling her legs and the newly blind Mother. The dead priest, borderline putrefact, and the thief in Sohodol he did not even see. The desperate family in the stable, scarred forever.  _ And, to top it off, family is a thing I don’t have anymore. _ His gaze went back to Trevor.  _ But you don’t have it either. _ Sypha was supposedly in her deepest sleep.  _ Someone has to sleep in peace among us. _

“It’s just the losses,” Alucard shook his head.

“In order to lose, one must only have something first,” Trevor looked down and caressed Sypha’s hair, “Or so they told me.”

_ What do we have to lose, me and you? _ Alucard cracked his neck and made himself more comfortable. 

Trevor picked up a bunch of dry pine twigs and threw it to the flames. “I think we’ll be arriving Bucharest in five or six days,” he stoked the fire, “I don’t know what are we going to find there.”

“Besides Leo’s family.”

“This. It might be a wasted trip, it might be not. But, at least, we have a direction to follow.”

“I doubt there’s nothing to do in such a big city,” Alucard frowned.

_ What would I be doing if I had stayed home? _ He looked inside himself and did not find many answers.  _ Sleeping, maybe. _

Trevor looked at Sypha, still petting her red hair. “I hope she’ll be fine.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing. I mean, right now,” Trevor seemed to hesitate, still murmuring, “Bucharest was where she lost her parents.”

Alucard swallowed it dry.  _ Alone in this world we are.  _ He felt the need to go pick up a blanket, but most of this need was to walk. He got up to go to the carriage, skipping the roots and walking somewhat lazily.  _ I knew some about her parents, but… _ Brooding the last night in the castle, he recalled the late night chats and the secret words in his journal.  _ Well, it’ll still take some days. _ He went back to the spot where he sat, him and Trevor keeping a funeral silence in the part of the night in which they were still awake.

~

The next day began with a muddy road and an unceasing drizzle. A weak bridge awaited for them before the next village, one that should be crossed with all prudence and little weight. Trevor pulled the horses by their reins and one by one, except for the last one, which struggled to bring all the wagon on its own. Some people from the village and from the hovels before it went out to watch the scene, some of them shouting and clapping.  _ I don’t wanna scare the horses, I don’t wanna scare the horses…  _ At every new beginning of a racket, Trevor repeated the sentence in his mind like a prayer, to prevent from screaming back at some stupid villager. After reorganizing the horses, Alucard sat on the coachman’s bench with him, claiming to look for some fresh air, and Sypha did not leave the wagon, supposedly entertained with her book.

He conducted the carriage up to the next village, which name he did not fancy asking either. When they left it, Alucard poked Trevor, asking him to look at the map. They rode by a large path that crossed a grove, after a small farm or another. Trevor peeked at the sheet, with an eye on the road and another one on the map.

“What is it?” Trevor asked.

“I’m afraid to inform you that we’re going to cross another-”

After a short hill climb, he was able to see it from there; Trevor suddenly braked the horses. Another bridge, a big, broad one, was full of beams, fixes and other building structures.

“Isn’t it exactly what I needed?” Trevor rolled his eyes and let himself get floppy on the bench.

He conducted the carriage a bit more, up to the riverside, where there were campings as far as the eyes could see, of varying sizes. A tired, hunched worker with a saddened semblant passed by carrying a thick board.

“Excuse me, sir,” Alucard called him to ask, “Could you tell us how’s the bridge repairment status?”

The man assessed him with a strangeness face. “It opens tomorrow, if we’re lucky, son. This weather delayed us.”

“…Thank you, sir.”

Trevor left the bench and let himself fall lying down on the grass.  _ Looking at the brighter side, I really needed to leave that bench a bit.  _ There was no sun to need to hide the face, but he covered his eyes with his forearm and heard some movement around. In a glance, he saw the other two sitting by his side, Sypha with the book and Alucard looking at the time and the passing people. Soon, a shadow was projected onto his face, and Trevor took his arm off of his eyes to see what was that about. A man around thirty, with dark hair turning gray, stared at him with hands on his hips.

“Everything fine, boy?” The man asked.

“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir,” Trevor got up and pointed at the bridge with an open hand, “It’s easy to find out why.”

The man laughed. “I know, right? We set up camp right there, for the same reason. My name’s Florin. We were delivering some hay to Targoviste and its surroundings. Right now, I was going to the tavern-”

“Great,” Trevor said, “‘Cause you’ll show me where it is,” he noticed Sypha taking her eyes off of the book and gave him a mean look, “What’s wrong, you don’t wanna come?”

“I’m not in the mood to read in the middle of such a mess,” she shrugged, “I’m staying.”

“Whatever. If you need me, you know where I am,” he turned his back and started following his new acquaintance.

“Isn’t it a good idea to take the carriage inside the village?” Alucard opened his hand to show the rain that started falling.

“Do it while you still can, Trevor,” Sypha giggled.

“Oh, please. Have you ever seen me not conducting a carriage?” Trevor climbed up to the coachman’s seat again, “Florin, need a ride?”

“Gladly, my friend,” the man joined the other two in the back. 

~

Sypha yawned inside the carriage, at the same time that a horse neighed and tapped its hoof on the ground. The coincidence made her laugh, and the flame she had in her hand, to illuminate and to warm herself, flickered with her body. She turned a page of the book and came across a beautiful illustration of a blooming rosebush, with a description of the similarities between it and the apple trees on the other page.  _ That’s intriguing. _ She left the book on her lap and pulled the blanket a bit more over herself without succeeding. Looking to the side, she saw a distracted Alucard sitting on the tip of it. He noticed the pull and apologized, moving to the left of the bench. She thanked and went on flipping pages of the book.

It was not enough for her to warm up in that chilly stable.  _ I could use some Trevor here.  _ It was not enough reason to follow him in the tavern, where they would have no privacy and lots of noise.  _ And I won’t get him out of there any time soon. _ She indeed wanted to read, but she craved silence, more than anything. On the following page, she read:  _ “The apple seeds shall not be ingested, since, in big amounts, they contain a toxic substance still to be identified…” _

_ “You shouldn’t fear nature, but respect it, for sure.” _ Sypha smiled, turning another page.  _ Isn’t it, Dad? _ Her grandfather said the same, but her father’s voice occurred to her more frequently. She lost track of how many lives they saved, father and son with the same gift. How they cured her toothaches, her childhood fevers, her first feminine discomforts.  _ And, if we needed a roof over our heads, Mom was there to set it. _ She was not as nearly as affable and smiling as they were. She was a master of building and fixing, and could set up and dismount a camping as fast as a bolt.

_ In a day like any other… Well, not really. I was grounded.  _ She felt a lump in her throat, accompanied by a sad smile. Together with the other children of the Speakers, she tried to set fire to a barrack. After a scolding like no other, she could not leave to see the city. After that, the city guard appeared at the doorstep of the abandoned house where they hid. They normally showed up to evict them from wherever they were. However, they came with news and a pair of corpses.  _ “A drunkard with a club, we believe. I don’t advise that you take off the shrouds.” _

They rested together in a shallow grave, outside the city, side by side as they had always been.  _ I didn’t even have the chance to tell them I loved them one last time. _ She had cried with her grandfather for days on the road, leaving the city before they had more problems, and for months later.  _ Why do certain things have to happen? _ The tears came on their own and fell on the pages of the book, a volume she got from the library of the castle without a second thought. She put out the flame and hugged herself. Soon, she was sobbing.  _ Why? _

She heard Alucard dragging himself again, this time closer, and felt him put his arm over her shoulders. Sypha could not breathe and hid her own face with her hands. The pain in her chest would perhaps never leave her. He hugged her gently and pulled her closer. Sypha ended up resting her head on the shoulder that sheltered her.

“This book was my mother’s,” Alucard whispered, as if he talked to himself, when she was sniffing without a word, “It may be yours now.”

“Thank you,” she made an effort to smile, even in the dark, “I wish you haven’t seen me like this.”

“You’ve seen me way worse.”

_ I think we’re in the same boat, then. _ That silence bothered her, like an insect flying around her ears. Trevor’s touch was nothing alike; it was like staying quiet with one another was the best option.

“I’d like to talk,” she said.

“And what do you want to talk about?”

“Watch out. I’ll light up some fire,” she held out a hand in front of her and conjured a flame, “I don’t know. Ask me questions.”

“Questions?”

“About whatever you want.”

He took a moment to think. “How do you like the book?”

“It’s fascinating. I want to devour it, but I’d rather take it slow.”

“That’s good,” he nodded, “And did you come across something you didn’t understand so far?”

“Some things, but I didn’t really take notes.”

“I hope you’ve marked the pages, then. And what would you like to read next?”

“About chemistry, or history, or…” Sypha hesitated, thinking two, three, four times before letting it out, “…Your journal, maybe.”

“My journal?” He laughed nervously, “Well, that’s what we have in the baggage. Do you want to read it now?”

“Not really. You can tell me what’s written in it.”

“Even if you don’t want to read it?” He frowned, “What do you want to know?”

“All that matters.”

“Everything matters,” Alucard giggled, “So?”

“Tell me everything, then,” Sypha felt blood rushing up to her face and dimmed the flame.

“To begin with, I talk about my days, about what happens to me,” he enumerated it with his free hand, “About my thoughts, my fears, hopes, and past. I talk about my parents, about me… About you.”

“About us?”  _ About me, for sure _ , “What about us?”

“Do I still need to ask questions?

“I think that counts as a question,” Sypha laughed.

“Well, I… I write about who you are, how you are, what you do. What else?”

“It’s up to you,”  _ I know some of the answer, but I want to hear it from you. _

“I also write…” He hesitated, “About the things I feel, even the ones I don’t understand quite well.”

“What kind of things?” Sypha noticed feeling a palpitation.

“I thought I was supposed to ask questions.”

“It’s not like it’s a rule. But, wait. What are you talking about?” He did not answer, “The things you feel… About us?”

“In a way, yes,” Alucard’s arm was tense, and he turned his face to the opposite side.

Sypha felt a rush in her chest, and the only way to deal with it was to talk until it was gone. “What do you mean?”

“It’s complicated,” he sighed and relaxed.

_ For the love of god, tell me what it is. _ The palpitation that bothered her was even worse.  _ Is it what I’m thinking? Isn’t it? Please.  _

“It’s complicated for me, too,” the words escaped her.

Alucard turned his face to stare at her with eyes wide open. “For you?” She did not reply, “What’s complicated for you?” He gently grabbed her shoulder, repeating the question.

“You,” Sypha whispered, “You are complicated to me.”

_ It’s not like I can, but… _ Alucard turned her to face him and hugged her tight. Sypha corresponded it better than the first time and found in him an unexpected warmth that crossed the physical matters. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, smelling a perfume in his clothes that she did not expect to find.  _ And if things were just a little different, you wouldn’t even be here with us. _

“Are you sure?” He let go of her to look into her eyes again, “Do you mean what you’re telling me?

“What am I telling you?” She struggled not to stutter.

“That I’m… Complicated to you.”

“It’s just…” Sypha tried to catch the words in the air like butterflies, “You’re here so close to me, yet so far.”

“I’m right here.”

_ But I can’t.  _ She held his arm tighter, letting all air escape her lungs and letting go of him, losing all strength.  _ If I could, I’d have already done it. _ They hugged once again, in a touch that brought them comfort of another nature. Alucard rested his chin on her head and caressed her back.  _ What about now? _ When they left one another, Sypha felt her energy left her, too, and that she had forgotten her surroundings for an instant.

“In the library. Do you remember?” She giggled, “I feel like a fool when I look back to it.”

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

Sypha laughed out loud the second time. “You didn’t notice it?”

“Notice what?”

“When I, you know… When I tried to approach you.”

_ When Trevor didn’t exist in that way to me, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. _ The memory was a sharp sting that would not go away.  _ When, in the middle of that sea of books, I met you in the corridors, with that serious face of someone who carried the world on their shoulders. _ She closed her eyes to avoid crying again.  _ When you ignored me until the prophecy came to be. _

“Let’s say I wasn’t fertile ground for that kind of thing when we met,” Alucard shook his head.

“I thought of it. That it was nothing personal.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he laughed, “Maybe it is clearer now.”

_ Now that we have this problem called… _ She stopped herself from putting a name on the situation.  _ It would’ve been better if none of us had dared to tell. _

“What time is it now?” Sypha asked.

“It’s late, I believe. And no Trevor so far.”

_ Thank goodness. He made quite a scene because of a lie that wasn’t even for him. _

“Well, I believe he’s safe and sound in the tavern,” Alucard completed, shrugging.

“I believe he’s  _ wasted _ , you mean,” she snorted.

“That, too. Are we going after him, or…?”

“It’ll be good to go for a stroll.”  _ I’d stay here for the rest of the night, to be honest. _

“Is there any chance he’ll be bothered by the time we spent here?” Alucard frowned.

“We could’ve slept, or played checkers, or tried to set the stable on fire. Would he know?” Sypha got up and headed to the exit of the wagon, “He trusts me. That day in Ploiesti was just a bad moment.”

“And a bad choice of mine, don’t forget it.”

She side-eyed him and held out a hand, unmaking the moody face with a smile. “We’ve talked about that already. Come.”


	13. Wolf

Trevor sat alone by the table. He took a moment to look around, light-headed, with a hand occupied with a beer mug. He was not expecting that the tavern door opened and brought outsiders; however, so it did. The two newcomers dodged the other tables until he could greet them.

“Where’s your drinking mate?” Alucard asked.

“Outside,” Trevor pointed with his thumb to the back of the building, “He’s doing what no one else can do for him. It’s great that you came. Got some coins?”

Alucard searched his jacket pockets and counted some spare change. “You didn’t bring yours?”

“No. Let me check how much you’ve got,” Trevor held out a hand to gather the coins and counted them briefly, “It won’t be enough. Sypha?”

She dug out a greater coin from her pocket. Trevor sighed in relief. From the corner of the eye, he saw a side door ‘opening’ for the entrance of his fellow drinker.

“Florin!” Trevor called him, “There’s the man.”

He approached, staggering and stumbling a bit, and sat on the opposite chair with another sigh of relief. “A pint lighter, thank God. Are you two the ones he mentioned?”

“Probably, sir,” Alucard frowned.

“Quit the ‘sir’. I’m not old, I’m just worn-out like a rag,” Florin shook hands with Alucard, who stared at it with mistrust, “I’ll be the age of Christ this month. What’s your name?”

“I’m Adrian, nice to meet you. Are you staying longer here?”

“It’s about time we leave,” Trevor let himself fall to the back of the chair and did not find one, soon noticing his mistake, “My friend here has to go back to his camp and leave soon, isn’t it?”

“I do,” Florin burped, “I should be in bed, I mean, on a haystack, sleeping with the angels with the river as background noise.”

“And I volunteered to take him there, safe and sound,” Trevor pointed at himself, “So, let us all go. What do you think?”

Alucard and Sypha looked at one another and shrugged, agreeing. The two from the table got up and headed to the counter with the additional change, handing it to the tavern keeper with a big mustache and a stolid scowl.

Outside of the tavern, a cold breeze hit Trevor, who held Sypha with an arm. He argued with Florin which was the fastest game bird in all of Europe, without coming to a conclusion. None of the other two could untie the question, and they were answered with eyerolls from Trevor. They passed by the crops still questioning.

“What is the fastest mammal, then?” Florin asked, “Is it the hare?”

“That’s a good try, but have you ever tried to chase a weasel?” Trevor pointed at him, “Because I did, when I was a boy.”

“And they eat hares, don’t they?” Florin turned his head to him.

“Oh, they do. But there’s not much to roast in a weasel,” Trevor laughed, “They’d be good pets if they just wouldn’t rip its owner’s fingers. And they’re good hunters, if you ask me. They get rid of mice like cats, without half of the noise on the roof.”

Trevor looked ahead of them and stretched. He noticed a bunch of smoke rising to the sky, with his eyes used to the dark of the night.

“Look there,” he pointed, “It’s more smoke than a campfire would make.”

“My camp,” Florin stopped walking, “My camp’s there.”

_ Holy shit. _ They all got a wiggle on. Almost on the riverside, in the rut before it, Alucard approached from Trevor’s back and tapped on his shoulder to call him.

“I smell blood,” he whispered, “Plenty of blood.”

Trevor looked aside and nodded. As they finished climbing the ravine, they approached it carefully until they stopped meters before the camp on fire. Checking above a torn tent that burned, Trevor saw a lying leg with a slash and barred Floring with an arm. “Back off.”

Florin bumped onto his arm and froze in place, and it was enough to feel him shuddering.  _ Good Lord. _ People gathered from other camps, awaken at that time of the night, maybe due to the light and heat. 

Trevor raised his voice. “Take him away. Back off, everyone. No one comes in,” he looked at Sypha, and she had already pulled the merchant somewhere else. More people appeared like ants from an anthill. Trevor shouted, “Back off!”

No one else dared to take another step, and the murmur of the crowd went quiet. With a look over his shoulder, Trevor noticed that Sypha was on her way to the village with Florin, and that Alucard had stayed. Nodding at one another, they stepped in the camp.

Among the destroyed tents, there was more than a body, with fresh blood flowing on the grass, dead horses, and a bunch of fabric and wooden structures on the ground.

“A torch. Anyone?” Trevor requested. No one had it. He pointed at a young man, “You. Go fetch it.”

The young man disappeared among the people. One of the tents lost its support and crumbled to the ground, making the fire spread on the grass. Alucard grabbed an empty pot near the campfire and descended to the riverside, looking for water to put it out. Trevor followed him with his eyes and saw him have a jumpscare when a hand emerged from the water and a person floated to the surface. Alucard held the man’s hand and pulled him out. He coughed and was completely drenched.

“Thank you very much, sir. Thank you,” he coughed some more and took off his soaked shirt. Alucard handed him his jacket, “You saved my life. But if I haven’t jumped in the river…”

“Calm down,” Alucard guided him to the fire, holding his shoulder.

The man crouched by the campfire, not looking around and shaking like a leaf. Alucard left him there to continue putting out the fire. Trevor stepped inside one of the big tents, spacious enough to have a stool for a table and a bunch of personal belongings. The young man was back with the torch, handed it to Trevor, and left the camp in a hurry. Trevor looked around and pulled up the fallen awning from that tent.

“What did you find?” Alucard asked, back from the campfire.

“Check it out,” he extended the awning to show claw marks, “It means trouble.

They walked in the tent some more. Trevor pointed at the objects on the floor, among cups, bottles, and tools. “They were knocked from inside, I think.”

“That’s true,” Alucard spoke just as quietly, “We have to get these people out of here.”

“Right away,” Trevor left the scombers, raising his voice again, “All of you, listen. It’s not safe here. Head to the village. Do not split. Do not come back. Adults go on the edge of the circle, children and the elders in the middle. Got it?”

Silently, some people started moving. The man by the fire also got up to leave and Alucard headed to him. “Stay, please,” he rested a hand on the man’s shoulder, “You’re safe with us. What’s your name?”

The man nodded, still sitting. “I’m Constantin.”

“I’m Adrian,” he sighed, “What a place to start a conversation.”

Trevor approached and helped Constantin on his feet, also handing him the fur cloak. They left the wreckage walking towards the village.

“Constantin. What happened in the camp?” Alucard asked, with a comforting tone.

Under the fur cloak, the man seemed even smaller. “A beast, sir. Bigger than all of us,” he stuttered. Trevor and Alucard exchanged looks. Constantin went on, “It had black fur, claws, and the fire wouldn’t scare it. Running was of no use. I jumped in the river and grabbed onto the plant’s roots. I could do nothing. Alois tried to pierce it with a rake, and the demon split him and the wood in two like a twig.”

“And where did the creature go?” Trevor inquired, frowning.

“It ran to the forest, I think, when I was already in the river. But I did see where it came from,” Constantin looked back to the singed tents, “From inside the tent, sir.”

**~**

Alucard knocked on the door of the stable and identified himself when he heard Sypha’s “who’s there”. It was unlocked; being the third time they left, it would also be the third time they would bother the owner for the key. She and Trevor hugged, and Alucard felt his heart warming.  _ The solace of a loser, second-hand happiness. _ He wanted to shake his head briefly, but held it back.

“What did you find?” Sypha asked.

“This fellow right here, and nothing else,” Trevor sighed, “And that’s the problem.”

“Constantin? Constantin, is that you?” Florin’s voice could be heard as he approached, showing up under the sparse moonlight, “Someone else? Please.

Constantin shook his head. “Alois didn’t last. Neither did Luca.”

“Dear God,” Florin was on the edge of tears, “And the rest? Look for the rest.”

“We need that one of you come with us,” Alucard minded not scaring them even more, “We don’t know your group.”

“I’ll go,” Constantin raised his hand, “Stay, Florin.” The other began to protest when Constantin interrupted, “You’ve got a family. I don’t.”

_ How old are you? _ Alucard stared at him under the little light there was. Constantin’s dark hair had no grey in it, however.  _ You’re twenty or above, I’m sure. _

Sypha stepped outside and said goodbye to Florin. “I’m going with them this time, sir. Please, stay. God bless you.”

Florin did not reply and they closed the doors.

Leaving the stable, the village was full of people with torches, coming from the camps and leaving their houses at night.  _ It even looks like it’s day, with this movement. _ Trevor asked two or three people about the mayor’s residence, and soon they pointed at a balding man in his nightgown, outside of an exquisite residence. Trevor called the man and he approached the group. 

“There is a demon in the surroundings, sir,” Trevor said to him, “Please, shelter the travelers here for some hours. We’ll hunt it, and it might not look pretty.”

“Do it,” the mayor replied, with fear in his voice, “I’ll order that the gates are closed.”

“It might not be enough,” Trevor tilted his head.

“What do you mean?” The mayor almost stepped back.

“As we still ain’t sure of what it is, well, it might be able to climb the town’s walls,” Trevor shrugged.

The mayor gulped. “What to do, then?”

“Would the town mind some heat? Come with us, if it pleases you,” Trevor made a hand motion.

The man accompanied them to the gates and Trevor told him to climb to the sentry-box, also advising him to tell the guards to close the gates when the four crossed them. 

“Everyone in the sentry-box, step back,” Trevor shouted, with his hands around his mouth, “Step back, there comes fire. Sypha?”

“Yes?” She asked.

“Can you light some fire around the village?”

With some hand movements, she created a tremendous incendiary ring around the walls of the village. The people who saw it started screaming in panic.

“You can calm down, everything’s under control!” Trevor shouted his lungs out, “We’ll be back soon!” He pulled Sypha in for a goodbye kiss, “I’ll be back in a flash.”

As they walked on the road, Constantin tapped on Trevor’s shoulder. “Your cloak, sir,” the man said.

“Keep it. I’m not feeling cold,” Trevor denied it with a hand motion.

_ I actually think you do. _ Alucard smirked. The chilly wind would not cease. Past the crops and the grove, there was no further comment or any kind of banter. Alucard could sniff the suffocating scent of ashes from afar. They approached the camp with a soft step, but nothing in it seemed to awaken.

“There,” Constantin pointed at a body split in half by the upper and lower body, “That one is Alois.”

“How many were you?” Alucard whispered.

“Six. Me, Florin, Alois, Luca, Marius and Greta.”

“Only a woman?” Trevor asked.

“Marius’ wife,” Constantin nodded, “I also saw Luca. He’s farther from the campfire. He’s dead.”

Alucard glanced where Constantin pointed, a corpse with a claw slash on its chest.  _ Without a doubt. _ From the corner of the eye, Alucard saw Trevor making a disgusted face.

“There are two missing,” Trevor said.

“The couple. They stayed there,” Constantin showed the spacious tent, the one that was supposedly torn from inside. They entered its remains.

“Where is the…” Trevor asked. He looked down, with his foot stuck on an arm on the ground, “I found it.”

On the next found corpse, there was a missing leg, carelessly ripped from the body. “It’s Marius,” Constantin said, “His other leg is a wooden one.”

_ Now, there’s no leg at all. _ Alucard did not want to laugh at his own joke. 

Trevor kneeled besides the corpse and grabbed an object. “This thing…” He held it out for them to see, “Do you know what it is?”

He had found a pendant of a crimson shade, one that was very bright under the little moonlight. Its leather necklace was snapped, but the stone was intact. Alucard frowned.  _ What the hell? _

“This was Greta’s,” Constantin replied, “She bought it in Targoviste some weeks ago.”

“Is it precious?” Trevor questioned.”

“She thought it to be, sir. But it gave her headaches and nightmares.”

“And she wouldn’t take it off?” Alucard looked to Trevor, who corresponded the stare.

“She threw it out sometimes, but it reappeared,” Constantin shrugged, “So, she gave up.”

“Who sold it to her?” Alucard tried.

“I didn’t see it, sir.”

_ There’s no trace of… Greta, is it her name? _ Alucard felt a shiver down his spine.  _ But all traces of trouble. _

“And the creature ran away, you told us,” Trevor raised a finger, “Where did it go, exactly?”

“That way, sir,” Constantin pointed at the grove.

They all exchanged looks and headed to the indicated direction.

Their own steps on the foliage were the only thing they heard, despite the attention.  _ Whatever is in these woods, either it’s still far from us or it hasn’t noticed us yet.  _ Trevor was ahead with the torch, followed by Constantin, and Alucard in the rear end.

“It’s hard to track in this time of the night,” Trevor scratched his head.

“I can imagine it, sir,” Constantin stuttered.

“Please, be quiet,” Alucard requested, “Or we’ll drive the thing away.”

“Or attract it, which would make our life easier,” Trevor shrugged without looking back, “This grove seems endless, and it isn’t even that big. If I were a thing the size of what made that mess, how would I hide here?”

Alucard sighed. “Honestly? I’d rather ambush than to be ambushed.”

“Said the master of strategy,” Trevor snorted.

“It’s not time for waggery. People died, Trevor.”

“They’re dead, therefore not caring.”

Alucard rolled his eyes.  _ If Sypha was here… Well, I’d be less cynic, too. _ He went quiet to be a role model and Trevor ended up copying him.

“Wait,” Trevor pointed and approached what he indicated with the torch, “Is that a…?”

Alucard stretched his hand to grab the object, tangled to a root. “A shoe.”

“There’s a leg missing in the gentleman back there, so, it must be around here,” Trevor moved the torch, “Oh, a… Paw print?”

He kneeled besides the footmark and the other two surrounded it the same way.  _ It reminds me of a wolf paw.  _ Alucard touched the mud with his fingers before he got up.  _ I’ll probably leave some today. _ Trevor stayed on track and found a trail of stomped leaves and broken branches, which took them to a big, round rock covered in moss. As they turned around it, they found a femur with a few remains of flesh. All color left Constantin’s face, and he had to be held to stand up by both of them. Despite the support, the man threw up whatever he had in his stomach.  _ Poor man. _ Without any spare time to warn any of the others, Alucard heard a rustle in the trees and the creature jumped onto him.

Trevor pushed back the most fragile element of the trio, but had a torch in hand and could not draw the whip. Alucard received the lupine creature with a ready, pointed sword that pierced the animal’s chest. Standing on its back paws, it was taller than any human, with a completely black fur except for a red crystal on its throat.

The animal swung its enormous paws and Alucard kicked it afar.  _ Not as far as I’d like to, but… _ The creature collided with a tree, and the little that Alucard could see in the night revealed that any would made by the sword was soon healed.  _ Shit. _ Trevor gave Constantin the torch, telling him to take good care of it, and grabbed the Morning Star.

The creature charged again, catching an impulse, running a large distance; Trevor tried many whip blows, retreating with backward jumps, until a blow hit the thing’s snout, producing a sinister, painful whimper.  _ It’s about time. _ Alucard released his sword in the air, levitating with it, and became a wolf in a pounce against the other one. He heard Trevor protesting about no warnings.  _ Too late. _

A series of paw slashes and bites followed, together with hollow sounds from the creature. They corraled each other and attacked when they were not grappled, growling and barking. Alucard’s shape was a tad shorter than the other wolf, and he found himself to be much lighter when a blow from the creature threw him to a trunk.  _ Payback huh? _ He felt all air escaping his lungs and fell to the ground, back to his usual form. He stood up, brought his sword back, and cleaned some blood on his lips. Before he had any chance to react, the creature jumped onto Constantin, crouched close to the rock.

Trevor noosed the demon by its neck with his whip to stop it and the monstrous two-legged wolf fell on the foliage. Trevor approached it as fast as he could and spiked his short sword on the crimson crystal. The creature shook its arms and legs, roaring until it got limp, strengthless, leaving behind only a lifeless body. Alucard staggered towards them and finished cutting its head off with more than a blow, making a thick, dark blood run on the ground.

Catching his breath, Trevor got the necklace with the red pendant in his pocket and held it against the rock. Alucard widened his eyes.  _ It’s the same color. _ As Trevor proceeded to try and break the stone with the handle of the short sword, Alucard raised a hand. “Wait,” he said, “Let’s take it. I’ll carry the thing.”

Trevor froze in place and gave him a long stare. “Are you sure? I’d better this is over.”

“No, I’m not, but give me that,” Alucard held out a hand. He grabbed the necklace and tucked it in his waistband.  _ It goes right to the inner pocket when I get my jacket back. _

Constantin, who still wore the borrowed piece, approached them trembling from head to toe. “Sir,” he stuttered, holding onto the torch as if his life depended on it, “The monster… Was it Greta?”

“Probably,” Trevor sighed and called the man back to reality with a pat on his back, his other hand occupied by the creature’s head, “Come. Let’s go.”

_ Once again, poor man. _ They followed on their way back, all silent.

**~**

Sypha raised the flames from the ring of fire when she heard some movement coming from the grove. She only lowered them when she saw a bright spot, a torch in Constantin’s hand. When Trevor appeared by the man’s side, she stepped forward to hug him, then stepping back without doing so.  _ No, thank you very much.  _ He raised a horrible lupine head that still dripped blood from the cut neck, as if he showed her a hunting trophy, but without an ounce of joy from it.

“Do you want me to set that on fire, too?” Sypha pointed at the head.

“No, not yet,” Trevor waved at her to follow them up to the sentry-box. From there, he shouted above, “Mayor, are you there? Hey, mayor?”

The fearful man poked his head out of the watchtower.

“The threat is killed totally dead,” Trevor went on, “We’re putting out the flames. It’s great that they weren’t needed, don’t you think?”

The mayor answered in agreement with another shout and disappeared inside the sentry-box again. 

“The question is,  _ how _ do we put it out?” Trevor whispered to her.

Sypha showed the river in the end of the road. “There’s a bunch of water there. Be right back.” She prepared to fly with the wind. 

“Can I take her, Trevor?” Alucard asked.

“I’m not the one you ask,” Trevor frowned, shrugging.

They all exchanged looks and Alucard approached her. “May I? It’ll take less than half of the time.”

“Well, so be it,” Sypha giggled.

He grabbed her in a bridal carry as he did to Trevor in the tavern to take him upstairs.  _ Perhaps I weigh a lot less than him. _ She grabbed around Alucard’s neck, fearing that her face was in all shades of red.

Alucard started skipping and propelling himself on the road, taking them both in a speed she could never reach. Before she could notice, the fifteen-minute walk was turned into seconds. As she was set on the ground, Sypha needed to hold onto him for a moment, feeling dizzy.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“Almost,” she held Alucard’s arm. Sypha stepped forward to the river and tripped, almost falling; he kept her standing, embracing her by her shoulders. In an impulse, Sypha turned her head to Alucard’s side, and they stared at each other for a second.

“I wasn’t going to take long to get here,” Sypha stood on her feet.  _ I’m not dizzy anymore. _

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was an inappropriate offer.”

“No, it’s not. It’s just…” The words seemed to escape her.  _ I give up.  _ “Thank you.”

She stretched both hands to manipulate the water from the river, creating an enormous wave that flew above their heads and crashed on the villages. From afar, they saw the ring of fire disappearing and heard the faraway startled screams, in contrast with the silent night. They both laughed out the absurdity, and the silence was back. Sypha looked to the empty campings, seeing an arm of a corpse on the nearest one. She looked away from it.  _ I can’t stomach that now. _

“I mourn their losses,” she said as if she was alone, observing the river. 

“They were six,” Alucard looked the same way, “Three bodies to bury, two living ones to tell the tale.”

“What about the sixth one?” She raised an eyebrow.

“The wolf.”

Sypha felt a shiver down her spine. “How did that come to happen?”

“From the knowledge I have, a forgemaster from my father’s army would be perfectly able to do such a thing, either with a corpse or with living matter,” he began to stare at her, turning his head, “But the transformed victim was living with the others as if nothing was wrong… With the exception of carrying an uncommon sort of stone.”

He pulled a cord from his waistband, and before Sypha had the chance to blush again, Alucard opened his hand to show a necklace with a red pendant, of such a brighter tone that it almost looked like it had its own light.

“A cursed stone,” he closed his hand and made a sulky face, “One of a kind I believe I’ve seen before.”


	14. Snagov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, folks, how's everyone? How has quarantine been for you? This is one of the arcs that I really enjoyed writing so far because monks are awesome. I hope you like it as much as I do.

The morning had been made of dismantling remains of tents, assessing what was still useful, and, without fail, picking up bodies. They were covered by a white shroud and rested inside a cart, which was hooked onto the back of the wagon. A messenger from the town hall also knocked on the door of the stable to deliver them a convenient bag of coins; the knocks scared Florin, who woke up screaming from a snooze on the hay. Trevor noticed the man’s deep dark circles under the eyes, that Constantin had as well. The latter did not return Alucard’s jacket and Trevor’s fur cloak until the last second.  _ Well, not that I had slept with the angels to judge them. _

“The mayor also has explicit requests, sir,” the messenger stuttered, “He asks you to burn the devil’s head and throw it in the river. Don’t bury it. You know, not to bring us ill omens.”

_ This hideous thing doesn’t deserve a burial, anyway. _ Sypha was awake enough to hear, and took care of the task with unmatched efficiency.

It was about the middle of the afternoon when the bridge was finally free to come and go. A procession of campings was gone before the four-horse carriage crossed it. The two new men, unfortunate guests in the wagon, had their final destination in the minuscule next village, surrounded by hay crops and right next to another river, a narrower one with an intact bridge. They bid them farewell with no more than a “thank you” and a head nod, and Trevor got the carriage moving, looking over his shoulder. Upon the call of an old man with a rake, he saw the people approaching the two that stayed.  _ They’ll be asking questions… And it’s not like I wish to answer.  _ Trevor conducted until the beginning of the night, when they stopped and set up camp in the same mournful silence. He threw a rock in the campfire, out of complete boredom, and laid down to sleep soon with Sypha in tow. 

The next day had a sweeter, sunnier dawn, with the bitter aftertaste still lingering in the back of the throat. Sypha sat on the coachman’s bench with the map. 

Trevor squinted his eyes to see something on the horizon. “Another river?” He asked Sypha. “It’s a big one this time.”

“It’s the Lake Snagov,” she tapped with her finger on the map, “It is believed to be the greatest one in all of Wallachia.”

“No wonder,” he frowned.

The bridge that crossed it was also sumptuous and broad, and it had small sentry-boxes, two on each side.  _ It must be a thing from the times of war. _ Also, on the bridge, there was a man that resembled a dirty rag on the ground; he called for them and raised an arm when they passed by.

“Good morning, sir and ma’am,” he took off his dark hood, “A ride to this brother?”

Trevor analyzed him from head to toe.  _ And those are quite injured toes.  _ One of the man’s feet was poking out of the ripped shoe, beet red with signs of infection. The poor monk wore a beaten, discolored habit under his cloak, and also carried a poor rod. He was not an elder, but some grey hair began to appear among his otherwise dark curls.

“I’ve been here for more than a day, and my foot can take no more walking,” the man supported himself on the railing of the bridge with a hand and with the rod on the other, “Please, I ask?”

“Come with us,” Trevor tilted his head for him to climb, “Where are you going?”

“I am back to Snagov,” the monk replied, “Is it where you’re headed?”

“No, actually,” Trevor shrugged, “But it’ll do no harm.”

In the back of the wagon, Alucard helped him climb and accomodated him on the seat.

“Thanks a lot, thanks a lot,” the monk sighed in relief, “My name’s Pavel. I can guide you there, if it suits your needs.”

Pavel thanked God and them more times than they were able to count. Outside of the blessings, he spoke endlessly about his recent pilgrimage through Wallachia, from which he would be already back if it was not for the foot incident.

“And I walked all of this for my niece, sirs and ma’am. Her father is my brother, and he loves her more than anything in this world. The girl’s now healthy, and the deal with God was repaid,” Pavel looked out of the carriage. Him and Alucard had approached the coachman’s bench so that everyone could talk, “This road becomes really terrible when it rains. Good grief.”

“The whole country is under this never-ending drizzle, I think,” Alucard shrugged.

Trevor looked up to the sky, that retributed the kindness with a raindrop right in his eye.  _ There goes my sunny day. _

**~**

By noon, they parked the carriage under the greatest tree Trevor could find, taking a break to rest the horses by the lakeside. Alucard had no appetite and satisfied himself with a handful of dry fruits. On the edge of the wagon, the other three sat to eat and to hear Pavel’s traveling singularities. With his journal in hand, Alucard hesitated to start writing, but the other words begged to flow after the first one.

_ “As I promised, I’m here, not only more enlightened, but more confused as well. I know I’ve been living an oxymoron. However, things of these nature rarely make any sense. _

_ At the same time, it hurts me to write and I’m also radiant about it. Sypha and I are going through the same. Every moment I spent alone with her makes me burn for another of her hugs. How to dodge such a thing when we’re so similar creatures? I can talk to her about whatever’s on my mind and for hours straight; any subject will never run out. And even if we’re silent together, and it is uncomfortable, I know very well what I would do with it if I just had the right to do so, which is unlikely, not to say impossible. Such things are complicated more frequently than they are simple, and there are no clear-cut instructions to deal with the odd humankind. _

_ She loves Trevor. I know she does. Everything they do shows it. The way they look at one another, how they look for moments of their own, how they worry about each other, and, especially, how she dragged him out of a cycle of defeat and booze of which he would never leave alone. And he would not allow just anyone to have that role in his life: it was a matter of trust, a bond forged between them by the same cross-fire that made me know them. To be honest, I haven’t seen lots of what happened between them; I wasn’t there. I said them a premature farewell and lived since then an unstable sleep, surrounded by my own ciranda of ruins. In days like today, these ruins seem way too distant, and due to that, these are days of a weirdly good mood. _

_ Now, about Trevor… Well, he’s not my focus, nor my biggest problem in the last times. But something tells me there are things he would like to address with me. I can only theorize the reason: he may have noticed our suspicious movements, perhaps the reason why he was bothered about my lie back in Ploiesti. Best case scenario, he just wants to talk. It’s not like we belong to universes so distinct from each other, or like we were fully unable to understand each other. I admit that, once in a while, it’s hard to dialogue, but there’s a sort of comprehension that doesn’t rely on words. He asked me, in an indirect fashion, for help on taking care of Sypha, since we’re soon visiting her parents’ grave. Since he’s trusting me with the only thing he indeed has, I think we’re no longer just spikes for each other. _

_ Even if, and the possibility is bigger than the opposite, I end up empty-handed, I won’t leave this situation scarred to death. Yes, even if I stay on the road with the two of them; I’ll still witness something rare and stunning in front of my eyes, and one doesn’t get that chance every day. Now, I ask myself, what if I’m luckier than to be a mere watcher? I doubt it. But time will tell, and I wouldn’t waste the chance… Depending on what’s its price. _

_ Thank you for keeping up with me, and I’ll reappear when I have the chance.” _

They were back to the road soon, despite the drizzle. The greater part of the path ran by the lakeside, surrounded by a thicket and two or three tiny villages. Even with a terribly hurt foot, Pavel was in a splendid mood. 

“We’ll be there in no time,” the monk looked around, “You three are a blessing. The Lord put you on my way, that’s how it is.”

“I haven’t been called ‘a blessing’ much, sir,” Trevor laughed.

“Were you a mischievous boy?” Pavel tilted his head.

“I was the youngest of three, in a big house full of relatives,” Trevor looked to the road again, “It’s not hard to figure.”

“It’s the nature of children,” Pavel shrugged, “Still so young and lively.”

_ Me, a Belmont, a Speaker, and a monk. How ironic and how likely is this band? _ Alucard chuckled alone. Sypha was busy talking to Pavel about historical texts of all sort. Even though she did it out of courtesy, it was a good conversation to hear. Alucard rested his head on the wagon, with the journal still on his lap, discouraged from fumbling with the baggage with all that rumble-tumble.

It was almost the end of the afternoon when Snagov appeared, with houses of wood and stone. 

“Home, at last,” Pavel pointed an alley, “Follow that way, please, sir coachman. I’d like to see my brother before I’m back to the monastery.”

“Talking about the monastery, it’s on an island, am I correct?” Sypha asked.

“Precisely, my lady. And the lake up to the island is way too big for a bridge. One has to go by boat,” the monk touched Trevor’s shoulder, “Here, you can stop here.”

They got off the carriage to see a residence fronted by leatherwork of all kinds for sale. Alucard helped Pavel climb down to the ground and also knocked on the door, with no vendor in sight. 

Pavel did not hesitate to open it and call, “Matieu? Matieu, are you there?”

A girl about ten showed up, with the same dark, curly hair as the monk. She had a broad smile and greeted him as “uncle Pavel”, jumping in for a hug. Pavel raised her in the air with as much balance as he could with a foot like that, much to her amusement. 

He set her on the ground. “Where’s your father?”

“He’s inside, uncle,” she replied.

“Go call him, Irina, please,” he crouched to speak with her, “We have visitors. Good visitors.”

The girl disappeared in the house, and soon a busy-looking man appeared, younger than Pavel and wearing an apron. The man had a half-braided leather strip made of four cords in his hands. He hugged his brother for a long moment, exchanging amenities and hearing all sorts of stories from one another.

“Let’s not leave the guests standing,” Pavel gestured for them to head to the table, “And let’s also introduce them.”

The monk spoke about each one of the three, while Matieu’s wife found them water and slices of bread. Alucard accepted it more out of politeness than out of hunger. The woman also offered to call the old lady doctor, who did not live far from them. 

“There’s no need,” Pavel shook his head, “I’ll soon be home and they’ll treat me all right. But we’re going to need the boatman, for sure, who’s probably by the lakeside anyway,” he drank the water to the last drop and called for his brother, “Can you believe it? This lady here can read a myriad of languages. And she’s not even a nun!”

Sypha blushed. “It’s just that my father was a literate man, sir. And since he had no sons…”

“I see, I see,” Matieu nodded.

It was almost night when Pavel and his brother finished updating each other about the kinsfolk and the travel, as well as there was an end for the monk’s spoiling his niece, who asked him questions non-stop. Alucard helped Pavel on his feet again.

“The boat, now. And I invite you to know my home,” Pavel bowed, already outside, “Thanks a lot for having them in, Matieu. Please, be our guests, the three of you, if it’s convenient. Even if the monastery is small, there’s space to spare for you. Except for the horses, maybe.”

“We’ll have to leave them at the stable, in that case,” Trevor scratched his head, “It helps if I find out where it is.”

“I can show you,” Pavel sat on the coachman’s bench, “Turn there, on the left.”

Alucard did not take a part in the negotiation, nor did he pay any attention to the stable.  _ It’s like all of the others. There’s not much to see in it besides horses. _ He looked to Sypha from time to time. She seemed entertained with the book, which had a series of pages with small bookmarks.  _ We’re going to have a lot to talk about, given the chance. _ From there, they followed on foot to the lake. Alucard opted for carrying Pavel in his arms, much to the monk’s merriment.

The lakeside had a small berth with a silent boatman, who also wore the dark habit. He waited with his back facing them, holding onto a fishing rod cast on the water, when he heard approaching footsteps. The new monk turned his head and widened his eyes out of surprise, standing up and leaving the rod on the ground.

“Brother Pavel?” He walked up to the other monk, “I can’t believe it.” They hugged with the same nearness and joy as with Pavel’s relatives. After they were shooting the breeze for a while, the boatman spoke to the other three, “There’s room just for two at a time. Someone has to wait by the lakeside, and I’ll pick you up in a while.”

_ Well, let the couple go together. _ Alucard sat on the boat supporting Pavel as the boatman held the oars. The lake had a bunch of floating plants in bloom, that spread apart as they passed by their leaves. They gained some distance, and Alucard observed the two dots that were Trevor and Sypha speaking of something he ignored.  _ They are as close as I was to her before yesterday. _ The view of the monastery turned from a shapeless stop into a building of old architeture, made of stone and surrounded by a bit of green. He smiled to nobody and enjoyed that moment to close his eyes. He then heard an incomprehensible whisper and opened them again, not hearing it anymore. The monks were silent.  _ What was that? _ Alucard went back to his meditation, and the other two soon began to talk. The first sentence he could make sense of came from the boatman.

“…Haunted, it’s been some weeks, Brother Pavel. They changed the candle-holders from place. The candles are blown out without any wind. Some porcelains were also broken. They knocked down the altar! I don’t know how, in our sacred home, such a thing can happen. It never happened before, in spite of everything.”

_ In spite of what? _

“Good God,” Pavel replied, “Isn’t it someone’s doing?”

“No, Brother. Everyone from the night watch testified it. The ones that cross the graveyard do, too. They’ll fall to the ground like rotten fruits without tripping onto anything.”

_ Who would tell a case for us would appear from a detour.  _ Alucard smiled again. The boat arrived the islet, and the boatman stopped so they could leave. Pavel needed help again, and Alucard held him standing, both looking at the horizon until the boat was back with the other two. It was, then, properly docked in the island, and the monk that transported them reaped from the new berth a net full of fish. Pavel spoke to everyone where he would go, being received with more effusiveness than Alucard expected from a monastery. Pavel was, however, the merriest among his peers. They entered the building, which was smaller from a close view than it seemed from afar, finding themselves surrounded by more people and more chatter. 

“Now, my foot,” Pavel decided, talking to three monks at once, “I’d take the visitors in a tour by the place, but I’ll leave them to Brother Laurentiu right here,” he patted one of the monks’ shoulder, “Someone, please, take me to my bedroom.”

Alucard finally let a young acolyte guide Pavel, and saw himself free of the role of a crutch. Said Laurentiu stepped forward from the trio of monks; he had rose-colored cheeks and wore a thick pair of glasses.

“How can I help you, lady and gentlemen?” He stuttered, “Could I pick up your baggage and take it to your bedrooms? I thought about taking you to the kitchen shortly after that. The road leaves one hungry, they say.”

“Seems excellent,” Trevor agreed, “Any objection?”

No one opposed it, and they headed to their destination after the young man was back. The spacious kitchen had equally huge pans, pots, spoons, and all sorts of utensils. Laurentiu ran from a side to the other to serve them more bread, with a side of beer.

“It’s already past mealtime, and we do not waste a thing here,” Laurentiu sat with them, with a loaf of brown bread that he sliced with a knife, “If we lack something, the town will provide. But bread and beer are to us as bread and wine are Christ Himself.”

“If you allow me another mug,” Trevor dried his own as fast as a bolt, “It’s wonderful. Take my compliments to whoever made it. What’s in it?”

“Orange peel, sir. A delicacy that got here from a faraway land. One can make a jam out of the fruit, and it’s really unice. I can ask the Father if I can give you a taste of it.”

Before any of them could refuse, Laurentiu was already up on his feet looking for permission elsewhere. Alucard gave the beer its first sip and found in it a beverage as dense as a meal itself.  _ I think I won’t have an appetite for dinner. _ The young acolyte was back with a jar, struggling to open it, but managing to do so in the end. He gave each guest a spoonful of the jam on a slice of bread. Its flavor was indeed peculiar, and the stale bread gained a new life with it.

“We made it with honey, because sugar is just as rare as oranges,” Laurentiu commented, “It’s a real treasure.”

“Changing topics, you’ve certainly got a library,” Sypha spoke with a full mouth.

Laurentiu looked both ways before replying. “Outsiders are not allowed there, ma’am. But I could try to get you in there. If you’re seen, just tell them you got lost.”

The young man waited for them all to eat and drink before standing up and guiding them to the rest of the tour. They passed by the small graveyard, of simple tombstones without statues, an equally small vegetable garden, a set of vines that produced juicy table grapes, and, in the end, the chapel. It had no luxury like gold everywhere, nor it had many church pews, but even the plain beauty of the place was in lack of some decoration. Alucard looked around and saw a broken candlestick, missing some parts.

“What happened to this piece?” He asked.

“Oh, well…” Laurentiu stuttered, “I don’t know. I believe someone tripped near it, sir.”

Alucard looked to Sypha, who looked to Trevor.  _ Of course that’s not true. _

“Brother, could you please show me where’s the library?” Sypha requested.

“Sure thing, ma’am,” Laurentiu nodded, “Are the other two coming as well?”

“I’m the only one that can read, so, for them, it’ll be nothing but a room full of paper,” she laughed.

“Right, right,” Laurentiu said, “Gentlemen, if you need to find us, tell someone to show the way to the tower that’s not the bell tower. We won’t take too long.”

They waited for the other two to gain some distance in the corridor.  _ The echo would be an excellent spy. _

Alucard touched Trevor’s shoulder to call him, “I’m not sure if you’ve heard the same I did back in the boat,” he whispered, “This chapel is haunted.”

“Uh, no, we didn’t hear it,” Trevor began walking among the church pews, “But let’s take a look around the place.”

They observed the chapel, especially the altar, which had few objects.  _ Most of the stuff must be already far from the wraith’s hands.  _ The great cross had a missing splint on its bottom.

“Here,” Trevor pointed at it, “The piece might be in the trash already.”

“And it’s the only flaw it has,” Alucard turned his face to Trevor’s direction, “It was a pull in the direction of the wood’s fibers, see?”

“I do.”

They stood up and headed to the open Bible.

“It’s upside down,” Trevor flipped a page.

“And that goblet over there has straw in it,” Alucard frowned.

“What about this smell?” Trevor asked.

Alucard sniffed it and detected it came from an aromatic lit pyre, with cinders in it. “Everything looks fine with it,” he squinted his eyes to the cinders, “But what do you think everything’s all about?”

“It doesn’t look like demons’ tricks,” Trevor replied, “It would make a much bigger mess. Maybe a ghost, but who would haunt a monastery?”

“It depends,” Alucard rested a hand on his own chin, “Who’s dead?”

**~**

Sypha climbed the spiral stairs of the tower, with Brother Laurentiu ahead of her. The young man carried a heavy, rusty bunch of keys that clinked at every of his steps.  _ It’s almost night already, indeed, but I believe this is a dark place even in the brightest of days. _

“Are you a nun, ma’am?” The young monk asked, all of a sudden.

“No, Brother,” Sypha held back a laugh.

“So, how did you learn to read?”

She proceeded to tell him the same story she told to Pavel’s family in Snagov.  _ It’s not like this is the best place to be a Speaker. _

“But, I mean, didn’t your father find you a husband?” He stuttered, “Your husband would know how to read.”

“My husband left me, Brother, since I can’t have children,” she put on the saddest tone she could, “My old man foresaw that would happen to me, given my health as a young girl…”

“Oh, I’m truly sorry, ma’am. I shouldn’t have insisted on it. Pardon me my rudeness,” Laurentiu stuttered like never before.

“No problem,” she shrugged, “I try to pursue happiness in other ways, and reading is one of them.”

“I pray that, one day, God will bless you with a beautiful family of how many children you desire.”

“Thanks a lot, Brother.”

They arrived at the door of the library and Laurentiu unlocked it. It was a small room crammed with bookshelves, the corridors between them just broad enough for a single person.  _ Now, we’re talking. _

“What would you like to read, ma’am?” He asked.

“I’ve been reading about botany lately, but I’m thinking history this time.”

“Good choice,” he pointed inside with an open hand, “The monastery has seventy years worth of documents, if you’re interested.”

“I’ll accept any book that you suggest, thank you.”

It was nightfall already and Laurentiu found her a candle, together with a thick brown book. Sypha thought of refusing the candle, but accepted it.  _ It’s not like he can see me light my hands on fire. _ She opened the enormous volume, sitting by a study desk, and the first hours of the night went by as learning. Actually, the cities surrounding the lake were settled around the monastery, and not the opposite. Decades before, just near Sypha’s birth, the end of a war was fought there, and the great general Dragoi of Wallachia was killed and buried by the enemy troops…  _ In the crypt of the monastery? _

“Brother Laurentiu,” she called him. He was lost among the shelves and promptly approached, “Tell me more about this general.”

“Do you appreciate stories of war, ma’am?”

“I appreciate good characters, before anything else.”

“Well, then,” he cleaned his throat, “General Dragoi was ruthless and bloodthirsty, there’s no doubt about that. He was headstrong and there was no match for his combat skills. However, it is said that right here in the forest surrounding the lake, he made the mistake of stubborness and was caught in an enemy trap. His head was put on a stake, just as he did with the dead enemy soldiers, and it was shown to all of Istanbul.”

“And what about what’s left of him?”

“He rests under our feet, as stated in the book.”

“Hmm,” Sypha recalled the broken candle holder in the chapel, “And what kind of dead is he?”

Laurentiu made a gesture for silence. “We should be quiet, ma’am,” he looked around, “The walls have ears.”

The young monk invited her to leave the library and requested that she followed him. They walked by a way that was not the same as the first one, crossing a central hall towards the bell tower. Laurentiu was perfectly quiet and grabbed a torch from the wall. He unlocked another door, a bigger and noisier one, leaving it open. There was a trapdoor in a discreet corner; he opened it and went down first.  _ Should I really? _ She followed him.

As they were closed in the basement, Laurentiu whispered, “They say it’s the general, ma’am, who’s been haunting the chapel. The older brothers speak of having seen him around the building more than once. When they look at him, if he looks back at you, he’ll take off his head to show he’s dead.”

“A ghost, then.”

“A demon, that was what he was when alive. A ghost now, then. Come see the crypt.”

They continued on that narrow corridor. Laurentiu had to lower his head more than Sypha did. They arrived at a wider space with a series of urns inside holes on the walls, with skulls in their front.

“There,” the monk pointed, “That one’s the general’s.”

The other urns were simple, made of wood with few adornments and drawings. The general’s urn carried an ostentatious crown on the top of the skull that rested on the vase.  _ Did they really bring the man’s head all the way from Istanbul? _ Sypha frowned and stared at the eyeless orbits of the skeleton remains, feeling a brief shiver.

“Should I tell you a secret, ma’am?”

“Sure thing,”  _ Please, for the love of God, _ “I guarantee that I’ll take it to the tomb.”

“Rumour has it that Brother Pavel is a bastard of the general.”

As soon as Laurentiu finished speaking, the ceiling above them quaked six times, the chimes of the bell for six in the afternoon. They waited a bit for the footsteps to cross the trapdoor and left with as much prudence as possible.

“I’m late to wash my hands, and I’ll be even later to dinner,” Laurentiu stuttered.

_ It’s so good to be back to this fresh air. _ “I must apologize for making you late, Brother.”

“Don’t worry about that, I get scolded all the time here. Let’s go find those partners of yours.”


	15. Crossing

Each step Trevor took on the grass crumpled it. He passed between two tombstones and found a tree to sit under and contemplate the lake. To his right side, there was a grazing pony, guided by a monk with a white beard. Trevor looked up and a drop fell from the leaves, hitting his forehead. He heard footsteps behind him and stretched his neck to see who was it.

“Are you following me?” Trevor frowned.

“No.” Alucard also sat under the unnecessary shadow of the tree, in that grey day that was coming to an end. “I just don’t have anywhere else to go.”

_ Technically speaking, yes, you’re following me. _ Trevor shrugged.  _ Not meaning that’ll be of any help. I don’t know where to go either. _ The drizzle turned to rain and he sighed.

“When do you think we’ll arrive at Bucharest?” Alucard asked.

“In three or four days, if we come back by the same way we came here. I left the damn map in the wagon, so that’s nothing but a guess,” Trevor stretched, “What do I have to do for another mug of that beer?”

“Asking for it is a good take, maybe.”

Trevor laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Thanks, I guess. Anyway,” Alucard moved, probably to make himself more comfortable, “Of all the places where we could find work, we found it in the one we came by chance.”

Trevor put on his sarcastic tone. “Look at you, engaged like that. You don’t even sound like the same bratty boy that took us as guests.”

“Wait, are you happy for me or pointing out my hypocrisy?”

“Maybe both,” Trevor closed his eyes, “Do you miss home?”

“Yes and no, I’d say,” Alucard said.  _ I know how’s that. _ “There are things that I miss way more.”

“As, for example…?”

Alucard sighed. “It might not be hard to guess for yourself.”

“It’s not. I’ve had a family once,” Trevor crossed his fingers over his chest, “We were three children from my parents. I was the third, a brother and a sister before me. My sister was better with her whip than I was with mine. She tested it on me every now and then.”

Alucard laughed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Now, my brother was better with the sword. My parents were good in whatever they put their hands on. I wouldn’t leave any of them alone, but there was payback, for sure. My own flesh and blood.”

_ Telling it like that, it sounds like a story I read somewhere. _ Trevor smiled alone at the lake.  _ It’s been so long. _

“Are there days where you can see them in front of you?” Alucard asked.

“Yes, there are. What would they do, what would they say.” Trevor felt his chest heavy. “My parents and siblings, uncles and aunts and cousins, all of them.”

_ And I’m the only one left. _ The feeling of tears seemed strangely unattainable to him.  _ I’m alone. And you are, too. _ He chuckled and shook his head.  _ Who would ever say that, in a day of my life, I’d be chatting about the family I no longer have with a valuable hunting prize like this. My father would slap me across the face. _

“Try to see the brighter side of it,” Alucard suggested.  _ Is there one? _ “Now, we have a better home to come back to.”

“ _ I _ gave you my home, not the opposite.”

“It’s not like I’m going to haunt you away if you knock on my door again.”

“You’re not, huh?” Trevor’s tears seemed a step closer. “And it’s not like I’m going to frame your skull on the wall for descending the stairs to my library.”

Trevor heard a movement on the grass and looked over his shoulder; Alucard stood up. He did the same and saw Sypha approaching, hood on her head, with Laurentiu by her side. The young monk guided them by some corridors until they arrived at the silent bedrooms, empty of occupiers at that time. 

The monk unlocked a door and commented, “Someone was told to clean it, but it might not be enough. These bedrooms haven’t been used in a while.”

Peeking inside the room, Trevor saw that the furniture was composed of a bed for one, a table under the window, a chair, and a chest.  _ “Bedrooms,” he said. Two bedrooms, then. _ His guess was confirmed when Laurentiu unlocked the room on the opposite side of the corridor. Trevor smiled.  _ Love me some privacy. _ He pulled Sypha by the hand and saw her with the same smile. They checked if all the bags of their few belongings, most of them left in the stable.  _ Not that they would steal a bunch of food and a checkers board around here. _

When Laurentiu was gone, the three reunited there, sitting on the minuscule bed. As the door was closed, Sypha summarized her trip to the library and the crypt, telling them about the so-called ghost of the general.

“I’ve heard of him through my father’s writing,” Alucard said.

“And what did they say?” Sypha asked.

“He called him ‘that little rat of a soldier’,” Alucard let out a sarcastic laugh, “I believe he rose to the top during the war that took place before we were born.”

“Correct,” Sypha lit up a flame so that they would see each other, “And he died due to the very same war, around these woods.”

Trevor crossed his arms. “Well, if there  _ is _ a ghost, we’ll have to watch over the chapel to see if the golden child is showing up.”

“Given that the possibility is widespread among the monks, it’s possible that someone already guards it,” Sypha put a hand on her chin.

“Perhaps someone used to watch it and doesn’t do it anymore,” Alucard shrugged, “It might be that no one wastes their time with that, since it hasn't worked out to prevent it from happening. That said, I can watch the chapel.”

“It’s fine by me,” Trevor agreed, “What about you, Sypha?”

“Fine, too,” she said.

The cold wind of the evening made the window shake and showed the necessity of the chock on the table. They looked for blankets in the chest, that seemed to be enough for the fall, and played a match of checkers. Trevor and Sypha sided against Alucard alone until there were knocks on the door. Trevor told them to come in.

“I invite you to wash your hands for dinner,” Laurentiu’s head popped in, “The food’s already served.”

They left the bedroom to go to the sink out in the open, with water that was as clean as it was cold.

“Are there baths here?” Trevor asked out of curiosity.

“Like anywhere in the world, sir,” Laurentiu nodded, “And they happen to be warm in this weather. But I’m afraid that the lady will have to go in another time. It’s a public place.”

They followed him to the long dinner table, in which sat the almost thirty monks of the monastery. They quietly ate the meal, composed of small salted fish, boiled eggs, soup, and bread, sided by the unmatched beer. The majority was already halfway through the dish when Pavel arrived, with a treated foot and supported by another monk. 

Whatever silence protocol was broken and an endless chatter began, one of him with whomever wanted attention. Trevor took advantage of the uproar to ask Laurentiu discreetly for another mug of beer, given to him on spot and drunk without nobody’s disapproval. The first spoon of the soup was already cool enough to be eaten carelessly. It revealed a flavor in which Trevor could not put a name.  _ The broth is yellow. What might that be? _

As the dishes were picked up, they were quick to return to their bedrooms. Sypha closed the door with the side of her body, sighing of relief. 

“Finally,” she said.

“And we’ve got a break tonight. Big strike, don’t you think?” Trevor smiled and lied down on the bed, “It’s a shame that the walls seem to be so thin.”

“That’s not my problem…” She lit up a candle and joined him in bed, lightly biting his neck.

“Hey, take it slow,” Trevor felt a shiver down his spine, “You don’t need to cross the line just because-”

Sypha bit him again harder, changing the place of the neck. Trevor let out a brief moan.

“Because I like it?” She chuckled, “You were always louder than me. But here, you have to be quiet. You know where we are.”

  
  


**~**

Alucard still felt the pillow under his head, the bed under his body, his arms resting on the mattress. He breathed in deeply, with his eyes closed and his torso up, covered by the blankets found in the chest. Not a thing was visible, and he would not see even if he opened his eyes in that candleless evening; however, he could hear, and heard a noise that he believed to be distant.  _ What’s that? _ He made himself pay attention to it, and also dove deeper in the darkness that would lead him to a dream. He took an even deeper breath and had the impression to hear a “please” in a crying tone. He shivered, as if he was cold despite the enough blankets.

Alucard broke the spell of sleepiness and sat down, reclining on the headboard. He stared at nothing in particular for a moment, then reached for his inside pocket in the jacket, hanging on the bed.  _ If it is this thing…  _ He did not breathe for a second and lit up a spark behind the necklace. The pendant was as red as fresh blood.  _ It’s a very familiar shade. _

The bell chimed eight times and the monks would lay to rest.  _ A bit more, and I’ll go to the chapel.  _ With his eyes already wide open and used to the dark, he heard another sound.  _ Huh? _ A second take showed that it came from outside, muffled by the walls. He got up from the bed and unlocked the door with a slow turn of the key. Discreetly leaving to the corridor, he detected that it came from the bedroom in front of him.  _ Why do I think I’ll regret it? _ He did not have to put his ear on the door to listen.

“What do I have to do to keep you silent?”

_ It’s Sypha. _ She was quiet enough that no human would hear, but winsome enough for him to be sure what was that about.  _ Right. My imagination haven’t gotten me this far.  _ Next sound was Trevor’s, an unplanned, accidental noise. Alucard froze in front of the door and became mist, crawling on the floor not to be seen, headed to the chapel.

He crossed the closed doors through the lower fret. The place was a lot more sinister at night, without any light but the lit pyre in the altar. Back to his usual form, he stepped on the central corridor between the pews.  _ What was I expecting? _ He sighed and looked down, letting his weak arms hang by his side.  _ Well, I almost saw it happening when I opened that tavern door. This was just the next step. _ He clenched his fists.  _ Why do I care so much? _ He knew the answer. With his head up to see the chapel, he walked a bit more; the echo made him remember he was the only one there. The broken and messy objects were still in their places. He sat on the first church pew and waited, watching the time going by. 

More than an hour later, he heard footsteps in the corridor. Before the doors opened, after a turn of a key and a creek that was especially thunderous, Alucard became a bat and hanged himself in the altar.  _ I think I won’t be seen here. _ An anonymous monk entered the chapel in a hurry, walking up to the pyre with a torch and some coal to revive the flame.  _ It’s the kind that’s never put out. There must be a night watch for it.  _ The monk left the same way he arrived: no scares or other exclamations. Alucard kept on hanging until he got tired of the position and took flight. As he descended, he was back to normal and did not see one of the stair steps of the altar, falling to the floor. He cursed.  _ I hope no one has heard it. _

The more time he spent in the chapel, the more he deemed his watch to be fruitless. Nothing had moved, or dragged, or broken, or turned upside down. He left the place through the backdoor turning to mist, and was received by the beginning of a drizzle. He lit up a small flame in his hand to walk among the tombstones and turned around the islet towards the berth. Since he had awoken, he felt a weight in his chest, and the void was even greater the more he tried to think.  _ I know the reason… At least part of it.  _ The part he did not understand was an indiscernible, tangled scribble. The known rest was left to be ignored.

The berth still had the boat tied to it, as it was done still in the light of day. There was also a known figure carrying a torch and supporting himself on a cane, looking towards the lake. Alucard put out his own flame. 

Brother Pavel looked back and greeted him, “Hello, young man. Beautiful night, don’t you think?”

“Not so much for me, brother,” Alucard chuckled against his will.

“It is all a matter of point of view,” the monk had a storytelling tone, “I’m home, my foot is taken care of, my belly is full, and my niece is alive.”

“So, you’re luckier than me.”

“Now, what are you talking about?” Pavel asked.

_ Should I, really? _ It did not seem like a sensible attitude to tell what was going on to a chatty man he barely knew.  _ It doesn’t matter. In a day or two, I’ll no longer be here. _

“Brother, have you ever gotten into a fight in which you had no chance of winning?”

“That’s how life is, isn’t it?” The monk laughed. “We survive every single day just so that we all end up under the same earth, no matter what’s done.”

_ Well, maybe not me. _ Alucard saved the joke for himself. “Why bother fighting, then?”

“Hmm,” Pavel pondered for a moment, “If there’s no use on trying to win, fight to throw some good punches, then.”

Alucard laughed as well. “I thought your order swore vows of nonviolence.”

“And we’re all human, even in here.”

The rain began falling harder, and they had to seek shelter in another place before the torch was put out. Pavel showed a memorial covered by a bit of roof. Alucard offered him some help, which the monk refused, supported by his cane.  _ At least it’s better than that rod of his. _

“Well, then,” Alucard said, “What if I told you that there’s a sort of… other thing in my mind? A thing that’s both me, and not me.”

“Go on, I’m keeping up.”

“It’s a thing that clouds my thoughts, blurs my sight and makes my judgment weak. It throws in the mud whatever feeling and sensation I might have. I was fine just a while ago and I’m not anymore. What’s this?”

“In the big world outside, the people call it ‘disappointment’, I believe,” Pavel scratched his chin, covered by a trimmed beard. It was poorly cared on the road.

_ You’re half right. _ “It’s a part of the problem,” Alucard sighed, “What then, when it happens for no reason at all?”

“Young man, do you know the tale of the wagon?”

“Tell me, please.”

“Can you conduct horses?” Pavel asked.

“No, Brother, sadly,” Alucard shook his head.

“Pretend that you can, for a moment,” the monk began gesticulating a bit with the torch, but Alucard only saw him from the corner of his eye. They both stared at the lake. “And that you’re a merchant with a rigorous boss. Also, pretend that he sent you on a long, long trip. He gave you the choice of hiring an unknown coachman, a man from a distant land, who reads maps in quite a… quirky fashion, to say the least. However, if he goes with you, you’ll be comfortably sitting on the bench, lost wherever he takes you.”

“And what’s the other option?”

“Conducting the horses yourself. From dawn to dusk, or under the rain. Holding the reins, reading the map, asking for directions in the villages. What seems best for you?”

Alucard took a moment to think. “Conducting it myself, of course.”

“Think twice! The bench in the wagon is upholstered. You can even sleep in it, if the road’s good. If you get lost, blame the coachman. Sure, nothing will be solved, but it won’t be you to put yourself in that situation.”

“A coachman that  _ I _ have hired,” Alucard frowned, “The fault’s all mine.”

Pavel laughed out loud. “I like how sharp you are. Can you give a little hand to this man that needs to go back to his room, before the doctor finds him out?”

“Sure thing, Brother,” Alucard held out a hand and grabbed the cane. 

Through the open front door of the monastery, Pavel guided him to the corridor with the bedrooms. The monk said he would go on his own from there, leaving the torch on the wall, where he must have found it. Alucard looked outside through the fret of the door and headed back to the memorial.  _ It seems like a good place to think. _ He sat there under the small roof and closed his eyes in a brief meditation, listening to the rain sound. In a moment, he could not tell if it was a dream or if his eyes were open, he was sure to see a man greeting him, a gentleman without a hat that still got something out of his head… 

**~**

“Where were you?”

Sypha stood up, a mug of beer in her hand, as she saw the door open. Alucard was drenched in rain and with stray puppy eyes. 

“Sorry,” he said, looking at the floor. 

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Trevor gave him a mean look.

“I was in the memorial,” Alucard stepped in the bedroom, without corresponding to their stare, “I slept there.”

Trevor got up from the bed, turning around Alucard; he opened the chest and threw a cloth from it onto Alucard’s face.

“You should see your face,” Trevor chuckled.

“It’s not like you’ve given me a mirror,” Alucard ran the fabric on his face. Before he had another chance to say anything, a dry shirt was also thrown.

“Tell us about your whereabouts next time,” Trevor scolded, “What about the chapel?”

“I swear I spent hours looking at the glass panels flowing, and nothing moved besides the pyre,” Alucard shrugged, “Actually, the monks have a night watch to keep it lit.”

“The glass panels flowing, you say?” Trevor frowned. “Did it rain last night? I haven’t noticed it.”

_ We haven’t.  _ Sypha giggled behind her mug.

“It didn’t rain that much. It was a joke,” Alucard took off his soaked shirt and let it fall on the floor, “Glass is a liquid, after all.”

Trevor opened his mouth to answer and ended up quacking, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Sypha let her empty mug on the table, “Didn’t you know?”

“If you see it very closely, it doesn’t form crystals,” Alucard explained, “It looks more like it’s liquid than it looks solid.”

“Uh…” Trevor stuttered, “Interesting, I guess.”

The three went quiet.  _ We have nothing. Not a single clue.  _ Sypha sighed with a hand on her forehead. Quiet as a grave before, the corridor began to have sounds of people running from a side to another, and the murmur reached their bedroom. With a cloth wrapping his hair, Alucard opened the door and signaled with his head so that they would exit as well.

In the end of the corridor, there was a gathering of monks.  _ They look like crows on a corpse. _ Sypha tried not to laugh from her morbid joke. Brother Laurentiu left the group with his face as pale as paper, nothing like the pink cheeks he used to have, and with a pair of trembling hands.

Sypha touched his arm and asked, “Brother, what happened?”

“It’s Brother Pavel, ma’am,” he stuttered, “He’s dead.”

They followed back to the bedroom and locked the door.

“Dear Lord,” Sypha let herself fall sitting on the bed, with no other words.

“I think I was the last one to see him alive,” Alucard leaned on the door.

“And how was he?” Trevor asked.

“He wasn’t very suspicious. I left the chapel, walked around the island, and met him on the berth. We talked there and I took him to his bedroom because of his foot. Then, I was back to the memorial and fell asleep. Brother Laurentiu woke me up, and he was the first person I saw today.”

“Great,” Trevor sighed, “Now, they’ll pile up on us and kick us outta here using the lake.”

“We can fly our way out of here right now, if that’s the case,” Sypha pointed at the window, “We’re just getting a bit wet.”

There were knocks on the door. They all exchanged looks before Alucard asked who was it.

“Sir, can I come in?” Laurentiu stuttered on the other side.

Alucard opened the door. The young acolyte was as livid as he was before, but did not shake anymore.

“What happened, Brother?” Sypha asked.

“There’s a… a letter. It mentions you. It’s from Pavel. Please, come with me.”

The two on the bed got up and all of them followed him. Sypha held Trevor’s arm. 

Alucard seemed to hesitate, but ended up asking, “May I ask you if the body has been removed, Brother?”

“That’s the hardest part, sir.”

“What’s wrong?” Sypha inquired.

“It’s like…” Laurentiu gulped, “it’s like he’s been dead for weeks.”

_ How is it possible? We saw the man walking and talking yesterday.  _ Sypha held Trevor’s arm a bit tighter.  _ But the priest in Ploiesti also walked and talked…  _ She felt a shiver down her spine.

In Pavel’s bedroom, a room that might be like any other in the monastery, there was an elder monk with a grey beard and a crooked back. He was sitting on the chair and looked at the door with suspicions. 

“Are those the outsiders?” He asked.

“They are, Father,” Laurentiu stuttered, “I brought them.”

“Hmph,” the old man got up, “Don’t take too long. We have to take Pavel to the crypt.”

_ The crypt? _ Sypha let go of Trevor.  _ That’s true. The room doesn’t smell like a rotten corpse. How?  _ She looked at the bed, and a white shroud covered the remains of the monk.

“Ma’am,” Laurentiu called her, “Can you read the letter?”

Sypha stepped forward. “Sure.”

The long piece of paper was spread on the table, with its tip rolling up. Pavel’s handwriting was not particularly beautiful, but it was clear and readable, without any ink stains on the sheet. She opened a fret of the window so that the greyish day provided her a bit of sunlight. She began reading, just loud enough for that small, funeral room.

_ “My name’s Pavel Adamache, first son of Nicolai and Ana Adamache, older brother of Matieu and Elena. I was ordained in the Monastery of Snagov in the year of 1459, and since then, I’ve been living under the vows of peace, chastity, and poverty, a devotee of this doctrine that I hold so dearly. Through these final registrations, I come to tell you what really happened to me in the pilgrimage I’ve done, as for I swore an oath for the recovery of my first niece Irina. When you read this letter, I’ll already be dead, and actually, I’ve been dead for a long time. _

_ In my first weeks, in the beginning of the fall, everything happened in a splendid fashion. This beautiful country delights me! There’s a lot to see in Wallachia, and since it wasn’t my first time on the road, I could make good judgment of the people’s intentions. After the attack of the enemy, there is a lot of fear in these lands, that’s true; but that can’t eliminate the good nature of most people. However, being human is making mistakes, and I made one as I trusted people that in no way seemed suspicious as I laid my eyes on them. _

_ I approached a sumptuous camp in the near of Bucharest, searching for shelter and food. To be sincere, begging to the rich can be even less fruitful than begging to the miserable, but people sang in that place, and how music can charm me. To my surprise, they were all polite and generous… Not without second and third intentions with me. If you’re my close friend, or if you believe rumours, you might’ve heard what people say about my origins and birth. Is it true? Isn’t it? Bothering my mother with this bullcrap always granted one a spoon strike on the ear, no matter who was mocking. My father would be sad, and only sad, quiet and surrounded by distant thoughts. There was wine in the camp, good wine, and  _ in vino veritas _ , I told them of this rumour from which I boasted when I was young, much to my parents’ sadness. Then I was abducted in my sleep, tied up, pierced, burned, slashed, stabbed, and, in the end, poisoned by said group of people. What for? I don’t know and died without knowing.  _

_ My body, a sack of bones and blood, lied somewhere in that region south from here. To this moment, I don’t even remember where it is. After that, I roamed. I floated in the condition of a lost soul by places that I haven’t visited even when alive. I entered houses, stores, stables, barns, farms, fortresses, I crossed rocks without feeling an ounce of hunger, thirst, cold or heat. Some people saw me and heard me: children, the elderly, the sick, the mad ones, all of those who live near the crossing between this and the afterlife, somehow. I felt a mix of emotions that if I tried to describe for a thousand years as I sat on this very chair, I could never explain. The human mind is not made to understand death, just to fear it. What to do when you start living your ancestral fear every single day? _

_ In that state was when I came to Snagov, flying in the skies like a seagull. I walked these streets as an invisible stray dog, dove in the lake, climbed the trees, and decided to visit my home. In the roof was where we met; me and General Dragoi. I found myself similar to him, but the torpor of dying could have taken my reason away. He’s not very tall, but he’s a robust man, with a shadowy appearance. He has long eyelashes and bushy eyebrows like mine. He also carried an imposing mustache, and greeted me not taking off a hat, but his head, as the legend says. I won’t lie: in the beginning, even if we were already dead, I feared him. Reputation is something that transcends such triviality that is life. We talked for a long time, and almost every time he spoke, the wind would blow. Would you believe if I told you that he gave me advice? I wanted the Brothers to knew of my whereabouts. So, we acted like only two trickster ghosts would do. But everything that happened was blamed onto him, the most probable scapegoat. I bid him farewell, promising that I’d return to see him, my strange and unlikely friend. _

_ I was back to my body by accident, after sticking myself onto a quiet, saddish wagon that was headed south. When I entered my remains, I couldn’t believe it. I saw my reflection in a puddle for the first time. I looked like myself again, as if I had again flesh and life, but that tangled feeling, that confusing void wouldn’t leave me. I then walked towards the rest of the path I would go through in a solemn goodbye, while my illusion would last, and it lasted until I hit my foot on a treacherous rock. My foot began to take away my strength and balance, as if my false life leaked from there. I fell on the lake bridge, with no remaining energy, and there I spent a whole day, alone and defeated almost at my doorstep… Until I was found by the good samaritans. Mister Belmont, don’t think that I haven’t seen the crest on your belt.  _

_ I thank forever for the years that I spent on this Earth and for having the chance of saying goodbye to the ones I loved the most. None of you knew, but it was our last chat, our last meal together, our last hug. Now, the news will spread, and suspicions will raise, but to everyone in doubt, read them this letter that I wrote in the end of the soul I had, in this weak skeleton that once was my shelter.  _

_ With love, I dissolve and fade away, _

_ Pavel Adamache-Dragoi.” _


	16. Otherside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, long chapter! Also, have you ever talked to a... ghost? Hope you like it.

Trevor found out through the murmur of some passing monks that the baths would be delayed that day. _ Great, it’s past the time that I take one. _ The peace of the island was kept even with a dead member among them. _ Note, a dead man that was walking yesterday. _He did not know and was not interested in finding out what would happen to Pavel’s bones; he highly doubted that the monks would invite the three to whatever ceremony. Trevor threw in the lake the little rock he fiddled with and went back to his bedroom.

As he opened the door, Sypha turned her head back and smiled calmly. He sat on the bed and saw the occultists’ journal open on the table, in a page written in her handwriting.

“Still noting stuff down?” He asked.

“I took a break,” Sypha got up from the chair and stretched, “My hands end up hurting a bit.”

“I can imagine that. I still remember learning the first words,” he held her in a hug on the bed, “Wait, ‘hands’?”

“Yeah. I can write with both hands. Haven’t I told you?”

“Not really,” Trevor scratched his head.

Sypha giggled. “It’s not like that’s a secret, either.”

He kissed the top of her head and sighed. _ Please, write some more. You’re beautiful when you work. _

“Is it still the copy of the letter?” He inquired.

“It is,” Sypha also sighed, “I wanted a memento.”

“I know quite well.”

Trevor let his head fall until it touched the wall and faced the ceiling. _ Why did the man have to die? _ He did not think he would miss Pavel, given his brief presence and his endless chatter. _ By the way, how the hell? There wasn’t even a hint of flesh in that body. _ Brother Laurentiu had told them that there was nothing but a skeleton inside the habit. _ And how was that passage, a sumptuous camp killed him? _ He felt a weight in his chest. _ It’s hard to trust the world out there. _ He closed his eyes and hugged Sypha tighter. _ It’s hard to trust others. _

“Want me to write a bit?” He offered.

“No. ‘I’m the only one that can read’, remember?”

“Oh. That’s true.” 

They laughed. Sypha turned her face to stare at the open book, with the borrowed letter by its side.

“He was a good man,” she said.

“And he seemed very much alive.”

“He did,” she agreed.

They enjoyed the embrace for another moment. Trevor excused himself to reach for the jug of water by the bed. _ It’s empty. _ He stood up, and struck by an unwillingness of going all the way up to the fountain, he decided to grab the one in the other bedroom.

He left to the corridor and knocked on Alucard’s door. He did not answer. Trevor knocked again and there was no response. With a push on the door, much to his surprise, it was unlocked; it was just jammed on the floor. He popped his head inside and looked around. The darkness from the closed windows made him see about nothing. His foot hit something that did not move, and luckily, it was the jug. Trevor kneeled to grab it. As he approached his ear from the bed, he heard Alucard breathing deeply in his sleep. _ It’s still morning and he’s taking a nap. _ Trevor drank the water without using a cup and began hearing Alucard muttering.

“Huh?” Trevor whispered.

He poked Alucard on the cheek; he was as cold as usual, but a drop of sweat ran on his face. _ Actually, he’s as cold as a corpse now. _ He pushed the other’s face some more and called him. Alucard corresponded by gritting his teeth and not waking up. Trevor took off his hand. _ Don’t go around biting me. _ He looked at the jug and poured the rest of the water on the sleeping beauty. 

Alucard opened his eyes in the scare and raised his torso, awaken as if he was never sleeping.

“Trevor?” he said.

“You’re drenched,” Trevor put the jug on the floor.

“Of course, you just threw water on me.”

“No, you moron,” Trevor pointed at him, “Feel your own neck. You’re sweating.”

Alucard did so and pulled a bit of his hanging jacket to dry his face.

“What were you dreaming about?” Trevor asked.

“A voice.”

“Voice?” Trevor frowned.

“I didn’t stutter,” Alucard stood up, “A woman’s voice. It’s been some days that I hear it.”

“And why haven’t you told us?”

“Because I wanted to be sure of a thing,” Alucard grabbed his jacket and got from it the necklace with the red pendant they found in the camp, “You were lucky that I was the one to carry this.”

They left the bedroom observing the corridor to check if there was some monk. As they noticed it was empty, they entered the other bedroom. Alucard closed it and did the same to the windows.

“I can’t write like this,” Sypha protested.

Alucard sat on the bed. “Just a moment.”

Trevor also sat. Sypha turned her chair around to face them. _ This kind of meeting is sort of becoming a routine. _ Alucard opened his hand to show the crystal as he lit up a small dot of light to make the lively red even brighter. Trevor felt a shiver down his spine, one that he could not explain.

“This thing,” Alucard whispered, “I think it means trouble.”

“Why didn't you get rid of it?” Sypha asked.

“Because it might be important.” He turned to Trevor. “The wolf was the woman from the camp, remember?”

“It’s the same kind of crystal it had on its neck.” Trevor crossed his arms. “It’s a simple deduction.”

“Exactly. What matters now is that she’s been talking to me. Her name’s Greta, as Constantin told us back then.” Alucard sighed. _ I’d rather not name such a killer wolf, but she had a name whatsoever, _ Trevor thought. “She needs help. She’s a lost soul in an unknown place. It’s hard to understand what she says, but that part is pretty clear.”

“And how do you even talk to her?” Trevor inquired.

“I can hear her in my dreams, in between that state of sleeping and being awake. I haven’t seen her yet. I can only hear her. And what worries me… She has no idea how am I not turned into what she was. But I have a good guess.” Alucard undid the illusion he had been keeping to cloak his fangs. “I think I’m immune to that sort of curse.”

“Could’ve been worse.” Trevor felt the same cold shiver. “Now, Constantin told us that the necklace was bought in Targoviste. It’s the other way round if we would investigate.”

“We can’t leave Leo Alexe’s family unaware of what happened to him,” Alucard argued, “And we’re already a couple of days late.”

“To be honest, we’re not messengers.” Trevor shrugged. “Any place that’s got a job is a place for me. But-”

“Try not being so heartless just once. Leo’s life was hanging by a thread,” Alucard interrupted.

Trevor rolled his eyes. “I never said we would do a turnaround to Targoviste.”

“Focus,” Sypha requested, “Greta is dead, her husband is, too, and almost everyone from their camp. Let’s do something about it in another way.”

“Which way?” both of them asked at the same time.

“I don’t know, as for example…” Sypha rested a hand on her chin. “How does one talk to a ghost?”

Alucard chuckled. “Let’s ask one.”

**~**

Before the midday meal, Laurentiu knocked on the door to ask if both man would like to join the brothers in the communal bath.

“You had mentioned before, sir, that you looked for one,” the young man spoke to Trevor, “This is the day, in spite of what happened… As for the lady, I can try and talk someone into bringing you some soap and a barrel of hot water so that you could bathe in the bedroom.”

“It’d be great, Brother.” Sypha nodded. “It wouldn’t be fair if they were the only clean ones.”

“I’ll guide you there, given that I’m late.” Laurentiu stepped back. “I’ll have someone handle you the bath and the water.”

The three men left in a bit of a hurry, and Sypha was left alone in the bedroom, busy with the last lines of the letter. _ I’ll stay here and find out where’s the damn ghost. _ Alucard’s quill was good and precise; it would never spill any ink, and the calligraphy would come out thin and elegant, as is was of her liking. However, the paper of the occultists’ journal was not the best. It had shabby edges, a yellowish shade, and some suspicious stains, even on the blank pages. Sypha found a bookworm on the table, running away from the pages, and crushed it with a finger. She flipped some pages back and found herself rereading the paragraph on the general. _ “Reputation is something that transcends such triviality that is life.” _ She smiled. _ Good one, Pavel. _ Someone knocked on the door and she told them to come in.

“Please, open the door, ma’am,” the unknown voice said, “I need help with the weight.”

Sypha got up and did so. A grey-headed monk appeared alone, maybe in his fifties and with a limp leg, carrying a barrel almost of his size. She helped him take it to the middle of the bedroom, and the room was left almost spaceless.

“Thanks a lot, Brother.” She bowed slightly. “I’ll have an excellent bath.”

“No doubt about that, ma’am. Would you please allow me to ask an indiscreet question?”

_ If it’s not about my private parts… _She thought twice before accepting. “Sure, Brother. What is it?”

“As Pavel’s letter said,” the monk whispered, “is there a Belmont among us?”

“No, sir.” Sypha laughed at her own lie. “Out travel buddy is not quite versed in family crests, and he bought that belt from a street vendor for a trifle. God knows where the family’s possessions ended up after the Hold fell, huh?”

“That’s a relief.” He sighed. “It’s a blessing to hear so.”

_ You shall never know that Trevor made that belt himself. _ Sypha shrugged and had an idea. “Can I pay it back with another indiscreet question, Brother?”

“Sure thing. I’m going too far with meddling in your businesses already, anyway.”

“It’s about…” Sypha approached to whisper, “the apparition in the monastery.”

“Oh, yes.” The monk nodded. “We already know it was Pavel. It’s in the letter.”

“No, I don’t mean that.”

“The general?” He covered his mouth with both hands. “He’s like a raven, it’s an ill omen. He also perches like one, they say.”

“I see.” Sypha frowned. “And does he speak?”

“Some say he does, some say he doesn’t… I hope that you don’t plan to search for him.”

“No, in no way or fashion, Brother.”

“So, I’m leaving.” He turned on his back. “I have to go light up the pire.”

“Before, could you hand me the soap and the towels you have there?” Sypha pointed at the fabric on the monk’s shoulder.

“Right, right, I almost forgot it.” He laughed and gave her the things. “See you anytime, ma’am.”

Sypha said goodbye with a handwave. _ Well, it was not useless. _ She closed the windows and undressed until she was only in her underwear, entering the barrel carefully. The water was hotter than she preferred it. As she washed her hair, she peeked at the open book on the table. “ _ On the roof was where we met”... “He perches like a raven”… _

“That’s it!” she exclaimed to herself.

The door creaked as someone entered. Sypha turned her body and saw Alucard coming in, with Trevor on his heels, both wearing clean clothes.

“That’s what?” Trevor asked, balancing a towel on his head.

“The general.” Sypha poked half her body out of the barrel out of sheer excitement, wearing no more than a brown sleeveless shirt and underpants. “He’s one to be up high. It must be easy to find him somewhere like the bell tower.”

“Very good.” Trevor kissed her. “Now, how do we climb there without being spotted?”

“Climbing is no problem.” Alucard smiled. “It only requires the night so that we’re not seen.”

**~**

The day was gone slowly but patiently, among checkers games and Alucard teaching the other two how to play backgammon with the back of the board. When it was time, he left through the window as a bat, enjoying the good weather of that evening, and hanged himself on the bell tower. A monk climbed up there to chime the bell seven times, without noticing a thing on the ceiling. When he was gone, Alucard turned around the building several times, not seeing any sort of ghost. 

He was back in the tower and to his usual form, with both arms on the parapet. A bit of the Moon appeared among the clouds and a fresh breeze waved his clean hair. _ It would be a good evening, if not for the circumstances. _ He took the necklace out of the inner pocket of his jacket and heard some screaming and crying that pierced his eardrums. With a pair of eyes used to the dark, he stared at the library tower. An arm crossed its wall, together with a head on its hand. _ The ghost. _ Alucard waved and the spirit noticed the movement, even in the dark. He left the other tower putting his head back on its place and floating up to the parapet.

“To what do I owe your visit, young man?” The ghost had a deep, raspy voice, inaudible if more than a meter far from him.

“I want to talk, that’s all.”

“Oh, sure.” The general chuckled. “Before anything, the sacrifice, please.”

“Pardon me?” Alucard frowned.

“Don’t be foolish. At least a small drop of blood, or we have no deal.”

“Uh… Sure.”

“Come on, I don’t have the whole night,” the ghost hurried him up, “I’ll leave you here and go for a stroll while you stop shaking, all right?”

“I had no idea, sir.”

Alucard opened his mouth and began to pierce his thumb with a fang when general Dragoi laughed out loud, a laugh that all the quietness of the islet might have heard. The wind blew stronger.

“What a beautiful cuspid.” The ghost put a hand on his chin. “You don’t even need a knife, young man.”

“Sir, why do I feel that you’re tricking me into this sacrifice thing?”

“You’re not wrong in your conjecture. Now, quit the ‘sir’. I’m not that old.” Dragoi took off his head to greet him. “Or am I? What’s your name, young man?”

“I’m Adrian.”

“I think we can skip my introduction. It’s been a while no one comes looking for me.” Dragoi played with his mustache. “At least, not among the living. Perhaps if I give an old monk a heart attack, I’ll have some company again.”

“We had time to meet Pavel.” Alucard held back not to call him “sir”. “He left us a letter.”

“Hmph. Pavel?” The ghost frowned, and Alucard could swear he saw a hint of emotion in that face. “He came here, weeping like a dog, all woe and pain. No wonder. It’s harder to die than it is to kill. It’ll go away eventually, but when I thought he was beginning to have some fun…” He made a disappearing gesture with a hand. “He vanished. He’s really Ana’s son, chicken-hearted and a quitter.”

“And your son, I suppose.”

“With brows like those, is there any doubt?” Dragoi laughed some more. “I met the girl because of a bet. She made one with her friends and lost, and in a camp celebration, they were all looking behind the bushes as she had to suck it up and talk to me. But there was a lot of ‘don’t touch there’, ‘don’t do that’, ‘my dear God, what are we doing’…”

“Spare me from the details, please,” Alucard requested.

“Jaunty women were more of my liking. How about you?”

_ Why am I talking about it with a bloodthirsty spirit from twenty-something years ago? _ “I’d say that I’m attracted to the intellectual kind.”

“You go right for the troublesome ones?” Dragoi whistled. “Brave man.”

“Anyway.” Alucard sighed. “I come to you due to a problem I’ve been having. We’ve been having, actually. We’re a group, but I’m the most afflicted one.”

“Not that I’m a good confessional, but go ahead. Since you’ve looked for me, I might be of some help.” The ghost shrugged.

“Would you know how could I communicate with a lost soul?”

“Well…” Dragoi had a moment to think. “I wasn’t lost for too long, but while I was, I didn’t talk to anyone.”

“And what did you do to find your way?”

“See, young man, when you die, light drags your attention a lot. Fire, reflexes, even the full Moon. It’s easier to see them and to follow them. And there are dead ones that don’t accept that they’re dead, they don’t even know they died! To some of them, you’ve got to do that reality check.”

“I think that’s not the case. She’s just in pain.”

“And who are we talking about?”

He got the crystal from his pocket and Greta’s voice crossed his ears with a high-pitched shriek.

“Is someone there?” Dragoi asked, pointing at the necklace.

“She might not be in there, but this is the bond we seem to have.”

Alucard told the general the story about the camp, from the flames to the slaying of the wolf. 

The ghost did not move a single face muscle to the mention of Greta killing three people, nor did he do it when he heard Trevor degolated her. “And was it the woman?” he asked.

“It’s the most probable.” Alucard closed his hand around the pendant. “All we’ve got from her is this necklace and a name.” 

“And what’ll happen if you set it on fire?”

“It doesn’t read like a good idea.”

“It might be a good idea. It’ll attract the woman to you. And given that you don’t know if she got into her head that she’s dead…” Dragoi returned a falling eye to its socket. “I suggest that you try to contact her down here, under my blessings.”

**~**

“The crypt?” Sypha asked, “We don’t have the key.”

Alucard shrugged, sighing. “It’s the best we could think of, sorry.”

“I can try to mess around with the lock.” Trevor searched the baggage for a thin lockpick, one made to open doors and chests. “Maybe that’ll do.”

“I’d ask why do you even have that, if I didn’t know you.” Alucard chuckled.

“I really fancied setting free from that prison with this thing. The problem is that they break, and then, you don’t have it anymore,” Trevor said.

“That’s no problem at all.” Dragoi poked out of the wall.

Everyone screamed, with their backs facing the side from which he appeared. The general laughed like a thunder, ruining the silence of the monastery.

“It’s child’s play to find out who has the keys.” The ghost played with his mustache. “Wait for me just a minute.”

Sypha relaxed her disgusted face and put her hands on her chest to feel her upbeat heart. _ Why do people around me love to startle me? _ They waited until Dragoi reappeared, showing up with his head through the door.

“Do you have a light step, Belmont?” he asked.

“Uh, how did you find out?” Trevor frowned.

“That thing is not very subtle.” The ghost pointed at Trevor’s belt. “I think you do, so, up on your feet and follow me.”

Trevor left the bedroom with Dragoi by his side and stepping quietly, not closing the door. The two remained silent in the bedroom, looking around, sitting on the bed and apart by half a meter. _ Right, that’s enough. _

“Wanna see the copy of the letter?” she asked.

“Sure, please.”

Sypha got up from the mattress to pick up the book and the candle. She handed them to Alucard, who thanked her and skimmed through it, coming and going by the pages with a half-smile.

“What a fine handwriting.” He did not take his eyes off of the book. “Even more when it comes to the rest of this journal.”

“True, isn’t it?” Sypha giggled, feeling her face getting slightly warmer.

“I don’t know if mine can compare.” Alucard got Leo Alexe’s letter from his inner pocket and unfolded it. “Please, tell me what you think.”

_ I’ve seen it before, you just don’t know it. _ Sypha ran her eyes over the paper, a sheet gotten from the same binding where she copied Pavel’s words. Still, the elongated, elegant letters were beautiful to her a second time.

“It’s readable most of the time, I believe,” Alucard commented.

“Not just that, it’s really neat.” Sypha handed back the letter. “It’s quite inclined to the right, though…”

“And that’s a precious compliment, coming from you.”

“Sypha noticed the blood rushing to her face again and changed topics. “Would you believe if I told you that some Speakers can’t write?”

“It’s not hard to picture that, but I guess that all of them can read.”

“Not among the oldest ones. My grandfather can. He taught my father, and I learned with both.”

Alucard’s body shrugged, as if he felt a sting, with a hand on his head and both eyes closed. Sypha touched his shoulder and asked what was wrong.

He opened his eyes again. “The woman in the crystal.”

She gently squeezed his shoulder. “I wish I could do something.”

“I’m fine,” Alucard said. Sypha gave him a mean look for the lie. “What?”

She frowned. “Who do you think you’re trying to fool?”

“Sorry.” With a disheartened smile, Alucard held the hand that Sypha put on his shoulder, and soon let go of it. “I think being fast now is enough for me to get rid of it as soon as possible. And we wouldn’t know what to do if it wasn’t for you.”

Sypha opened her mouth to disregard her efforts when Dragoi’s chopped head entered the bedroom, with a sinister “hello” that did not startle them.

“Everything terrific around here?” the ghost asked.

Trevor pushed the door gently, not closing it, and showed off a bunch of keys. “Today’s hunting prize.” He smiled. “Let’s go, everyone.”

Sypha helped Alucard get on his feet. They put out the candle to take it away, as well as some others from the baggage and a bit of straw from the mattress, discreetly taken.

They followed by the corridor, guided by Sypha. Alucard crawled on the floor in mist form and Dragoi floated near the ceiling.

“The door creaks,” she whispered, pointing at the entrance of the bell tower, “What are we going to do? I don’t doubt that we awoke the whole monastery by now, but…”

“That’ll be no problem, milady.” Dragoi descended from his flight and put himself between the hinges. “Open it and try it out.”

“But which one’s the key?” Alucard asked.

Trevor approached to compare some keys to the lock, and decided rightfully that the second biggest one seemed to fit. The door made no sound except for the lock. _ Great. _ Sypha tapped onto the floor and lit up a candle to find the passage, lifting the trapdoor.

“Since you found your way, I’m afraid that tagging along will just scare the dead girl.” Dragoi chuckled. “You know how’s the people. I’ll leave you here.”

“Thanks for everything.” Alucard held out a hand and got it back when the ghost crossed it.

“No problem, young man. See you anytime.”

Dragoi crossed the ceiling towards the tower and disappeared. They climbed down the stairs, each one holding a candle.

Sypha recalled that the place was short on space, but with so many people, the crypt was even more suffocating. The skulls’ eye sockets stared at them as they passed, each one in front of a funeral urn. In the end, one could find the general’s, with his crown on top. _ He’s legendary, but being dead, he’s just like any other. _ She looked around, searching for new bones. _ Where might be Pavel? _

“There’s not much room to choose, but I think the middle is good.” Sypha stopped walking. “Let’s dispose the candles in a circle around us.”

“You mean a pentagon.” Trevor showed two unlit candles gotten from his pocket. He tried to light them up using his own candle and Alucard took them from his hands, doing so in a flash. “You could’ve asked for it,” Trevor protested.

“You could’ve asked _ me _.” Alucard put them on the floor.

“Now, the straw.” Sypha avoided an eye roll and unfolded her tunic, containing the loot from the mattress, and put it in the middle. “And the necklace.”

Alucard breathed in deep and got the crystal from his inner pocket, positioning it in the straw. He had the compenetrate stare that Sypha met a year before. _ It looks like he’s carrying a weight. _ She felt a heartache. _ A weight that’s his and only his. _ Sypha set the straw on fire, a single spark that would spread on its own with time. They all sat crossing their legs.

“What if we held hands?” she suggested.

They exchanged looks and did so, not without a disgusted look from Alucard to Trevor and a look back. _ It’s no use scolding them right now. _ Sypha gripped tighter on both hands she held and told everyone to close their eyes.

“I want you to know that we’re here. That we’re listening,” she began, “Can you see us? Can you hear us?” There was no change. “Please, speak to us, we want to talk. Don’t be afraid.”

Sypha felt her left hand being pulled. In that subterranean silence, she heard one of the breaths gasping for a second and then coming back heavier.

“Do not hurt him.” She held Alucard’s hand tighter. “He’s going to help you. The three of us will.”

The pulling stopped.

“Follow the light in the middle, that’s where we are.” Sypha opened a bit her blurry eyes.

The crystal still had its lively shade, but was intact, while the smoke of burnt leather plagued the little air there was in the crypt. Alucard let out a brief, muffled sound of agony, gritting his teeth.

Sypha held back not to tend to him. “Talk to us. What’s your name?”

“I’m Greta Florescu,” Alucard replied with his own voice, in a tone what wasn’t his.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“I’m twenty-nine.”

“Do you have a family, Greta?”

“I’m married to Marius Florescu. We have no children, but our Lord shall bestow His grace upon us.”

_ I’m so sorry. _ “What’s happening with you?” Sypha asked.

“I’m lost.” His voice became tearful. Sypha opened her eyes some more, and a tear fell down Alucard’s cheek.

“How’s the place where you are?”

“I can’t see a thing. There’s no one here.”

“You can hear us, though.”

“I can, yes, I can.”

Sypha took a deep breath. _ What about now? _ She held both hands tighter, looking for Alucard.

“Have you touched me?” Greta asked.

“I did.” Sypha opened her eyes completely and turned her head to the left. “I just touched your hand.”

She saw Trevor pressing the hand he held, with his eyes still closed.

“I felt it on the other hand,” Greta confirmed.

“Hold onto us, Greta. We’ll guide you.” _ I hope it works _, Sypha thought. “Try to walk forward.”

Both her and Trevor held the hands tighter, with their eyes already open. Alucard let his head fall and released a distressed moan in his own voice. _ Should we stop? _ He panted and trembled, until he suddenly stopped. Alucard opened his eyes at once and looked around, letting go of both hands. He raised his shaking fingers to stare at them, almost screaming in terror when Trevor jumped onto him to cover his mouth. 

“Please, don’t,” Trevor whispered, holding one of Greta’s arms above her head. She struggled against it, using the strength of the body she was in. Trevor immobilized her grabbing onto the other arm. They waited and waited until she was out of energy, in an endless cry underneath Trevor’s hand. “I won’t hurt you,” he murmured, “See?”

Trevor tried removing his hand and Greta did not scream. Sypha dragged herself closer. Alucard’s face was soaked in tears; he breathed through his mouth and his tangled hair covered his eyes. Sypha created a polished ice shard in the air that would suit as a mirror.

“Greta, look.” Sypha gulped. “This is not you.”

The woman gasped as she saw another face. “What happened to me?” she asked. They did not reply. “Where’s my husband? What is this place?”

_ Trevor killed you. You’re surrounded by bones in a crypt, far from wherever is your home. And you killed every person you could put your paws on. _

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Sypha inquired.

“The camp at night. Marius hugging me. Florin had left to the village, and the rest was by the campfire.” 

_ And there was blood on the grass, a man split in half, another without a leg, and a third one with his chest ripped apart. The scrawny horses were dead, too, and there were two of you left, carrying them all to the grave. _

“I was dizzy, my head hurt. I thought it was a sign, our blessing, maybe… the jewel bringing us luck. A child, finally.” Greta put both hands on her face and seemed like crying again, staring at herself in the mirror. “What happened to me?

“The jewel was a work of the enemy,” Sypha said, “He poisoned you.”

“Am I dead?” Greta asked.

They were silent for a moment.

“Yes,” Trevor confirmed.

“Am I in Hell?”

“No.” Trevor shook his head. “This is but a crypt.”

“Where is Marius? Where are the others?”

Sypha and Trevor exchanged looks. _ We can’t tell her. _

“They took you to the place where you were born, to rest in God.” Sypha held Greta’s shoulder.

The woman cried and cried. Trevor held her hand and Sypha hugged her. _ It’s totally different. _ She hugged a little tighter. _ It’s not Alucard. _

“We’re setting you free.” Sypha let go of her. “But first, we need to know about this jewel.”

“A lady sold it to me in Targoviste. For feminine problems, she told me.”

“And how was she?” Sypha asked.

“Not very old. She had a strong scent, like a perfume…” Greta shook her head. “She had big, blue eyes, but that’s all I remember. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Sypha smiled unwillingly. “It’s going to help anyway.”

“And where are you sending me?” Greta asked.

_ We don’t have a clue. _

“To the eternal peace of our Lord,” Trevor replied. 

_ And that’s a good take, but it’s a blatant lie. _

“Amen,” Greta said, “I’m so, so tired.”

“Please, sit here,” Sypha requested, “and hold hands with us once again.”

Back to the circle, she noticed that the woman was shaking.

“What’s wrong?” Sypha asked.

“This young man who’s with me,” Greta muttered, “Is he going to be fine?”

“He is.” Sypha comforted her. _ I don’t know. _

Greta lowered her head. “I hope he can forgive me.”

Sypha began declaiming Mother Bethania’s chant over and over again, with its winding ups and downs, until the words lost all meaning. She opened her eyes to see the crystal. It finished absorbing the fire, becoming incandescent and no longer the color of blood. She saw the birth of a crack onto it and Alucard fell back like a ragdoll, with his eyes rolling, almost hitting a candle. Sypha and Trevor leaned upon him to see if he lived, both sighing of relief as they noticed he had a pulse. They heard the sound of something cracking; as they looked back, the crystal burst, becoming a thin powder in the air. 

“Why do I even worry?” Trevor smirked. “He’s tough as nails.”

_ You should’ve kept it to yourself. _ Sypha chuckled bitterly.

They cleaned each and every vestige of being in the crypt before they left. Sypha found a jug with some lamp oil in a corner, a dusty and old thing, and applied it to the hinges of the door after they crossed the trapdoor. She looked back and saw Trevor struggling to carry a passed-out Alucard upstairs.

“Need help with that?” she asked.

“I think I can do it.” He got the deadweight off of his shoulders as they left the underground and held him in his arms, with an effort grunt. “Better now.”

_ He carried you when you were drunk. This is just payback. _ Sypha held back her speed to tag along. Near the bedroom corridor, there came a monk with a torch, and she almost cheered when she saw he was Laurentiu.

“Good evening, sir and ma’am.” The monk had a questioning face. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He passed out, I guess.” Trevor shrugged. “We noticed he wasn’t around and found him on the floor around here.”

Laurentiu stepped forward and guided them. “Please, take him to the bedroom, I’ll see what I can do.”

The young acolyte left them after they put Alucard in bed and he certified he was all right. Trevor and Sypha closed the door and stared at one another.

“I’m exhausted.” She sighed.

“It ain’t just you.” Trevor stole one of Alucard’s blankets and sat on the floor. “Come here.”

She snuggled beside him, under the blanket he offered. Sypha did not want to talk, and Trevor did not begin a chat either.

Sypha recalled waking up several times during the night when she saw sunlight through a fret of the window. In all of them, she checked if Alucard breathed. He slept the whole night the way he was put onto bed, without moving a single muscle to change his position, and still slept peacefully as she woke up for good. Looking to her side, she saw Trevor with his arms crossed, staring at the window.

“Good morning,” she greeted. He said the same with a whisper and a kiss on her cheek. “How are you?”

“Tired and sore.”

“It ain't just you, either.” Sypha stretched and her head was back to his shoulder.

Shortly after that, someone knocked on the door, and it was Laurentiu calling them for breakfast. The young man detected them in the bedroom with questions to be asked, but said nothing in the end.

“Could you bring us food to the bedroom once more, Brother?” Sypha asked.

“I’ll ask them if I can, ma’am,” Laurentiu said.

He left. _ I’m not hungry. _ Sypha closed her eyes. _ And I don’t really want to see people right now. _

**~**

Alucard found himself lying on his side and alone in the bedroom. He blinked twice so that the blur on his eyes went away and turned up his body. Tapping onto the inner pocket of his jacket, he found there only Leo’s letter. _ The necklace is gone. _ With a look around, the barely closed windows let the light in. _ What time might it be? _ He sat with his back on the headboard. _ How did I wind up here? _ He laid a hand on his forehead. _ My head doesn’t hurt. On the contrary… It feels weightless. _He looked at his open palm, closing it again.

_ What happened last night? _ His memory of going to the tower and talking to the ghost of the general that haunted the islet was crystalline. _ A conversation that made very little sense, by the way. _ He laughed alone at his own absurdity. The rest was a tangled mess made of voices and scenes of the bedroom of the monastery, until he left it, and from that point, he could not recall any more. _ But a thing is certain. _ He took a deep breath and felt like something was missing. _ Greta is gone. _

He heard footsteps coming from the corridor. The door opened with a push and Sypha entered the bedroom with a mug in her hand.

“I’m glad that we won’t need to wake you up.” She handed him the mug, one that he found out to be warm. “It’s wine with honey. They told me to give it to you.”

Alucard took a sip from it and found it not to be of poor quality. _ But it has some water in it, that’s undeniable. _

“Please, don’t stay there on your feet.” He tapped on the bed by his side.

Sypha sat there, just like the vague memory he had of being that way the night before. 

“How are you?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” He took another sip of the wine. “You?”

“I feel strange.” Sypha scratched her head. “So, I think I don’t know either.”

They both giggled. 

“That woman, Greta.” Alucard stared at the ceiling. “She’s not here anymore.”

“I know quite well.”

_ And my suspicions are confirmed. _

Alucard smirked. “I won’t miss her haunting.”

“I don’t want it to happen again.”

He sighed. “You know, I don’t remember much from yesterday. I’d be grateful if you could fill me in.”

“It was…” Sypha hesitated. “Strange. I believe that to be the best word, indeed.”

“Did you tell her what happened?”

She shook her head. “Maybe it was better that way,” she said. _ I don’t disagree. _ “She apologized to you in the end.”

“Greta?” Alucard frowned. “Well, I understand. It wasn’t her body, to begin with.”

_ It was mine. _ His face became somber. _ Luckily, it was mine. _ He stood up to feel the blood run in his legs, leaving the lukewarm mug with Sypha.

“Still on yesterday,” he continued, “on the topic of the stone, especially.”

“What was that?” she asked.

“Maybe you recall hearing me say that I’ve seen it before,” he began discoursing in the bedroom, in that bitter moment, “Greta’s soul was fused to the jewel, and it was made of soul, or souls, to sum it up. You might have heard of the philosopher's stone. It’s not the same thing, it’s the stage of something close to it.” He turned to stare at Sypha, completing himself. “The Crimson Stone. It was still in a pretty unstable state, therefore capable of mutating a human being to that point… and capable of creating yesterday’s commotion.”

“Problems, isn’t it?” Trevor appeared at the half-open door, with his usual laid-back posture.

“Yes, your speciality.” Alucard half-smiled. “I was about to search for you.”


	17. Pestilence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story arc was written by the end of last year and was NOT inspired by COVID-19, despite similarities. Proceed with caution.
> 
> CONTENT ALERT: this chapter has a brief mention of a self-harming attempt. If you're sensitive to that kind of content or are going through a rough time, I advise that you don't read it.

_ “Today is not a good day. _

_ It’s one of those in which the smiles are pale, the road has potholes, the food gives you a stomachache, the chit-chat is unfunny, and everything else is dull. In days like these, we can do but wait for it to finish and lay our heads on our pillows expecting that the next sunrise will bring something better. I believe I’ve been through them enough in the last year, in the few weeks in which I’ve been awake, and I speak of experience. Today, no matter how good it is what happens, will be as positive as a handshake. _

Alucard stopped writing as the wagon started moving and looked over his shoulder. He saw another village being left behind and more endless drizzle through the back of the wagon. Sypha took a nap, leaning on the other side, and Trevor was the conductor, everything in its perfect order. _ Or isn’t it? _

Near the end of the afternoon, they stopped to rest and feed the horses, and he got his journal again.

_ “Forgive me for not having a proper introduction, but there’s a subject I need to get off my chest before it suffocates me. I never believed that, in my long life expectancy, I’d come across the existence of a Crimson Stone other than my father’s. The very nature of the issue is, however, dubious to me. _

_ The Stone isn’t made of only a form, but also of a content. Both are originated of the same raw material: souls, given that the exterior of the stone is nothing but a vessel for a more powerful soul. On the other hand, the structure might need a series of previous tests before one can have the ideal substance. A weak matter generates a weak Stone, and the opposite is also valid. Whoever sold to Greta the remains of a failed Stone knew quite well what they were doing. I don’t doubt that there’s more to her transmutation than we know,. _

_ Trevor and Sypha are already informed of the weight of the subject. I told them before we bid farewell to the monastery of Snagov. I had no chance to say goodbye to Dragoi, but I’m sure that, maybe from the top of the bell tower, he watched over our boat and laughed on his own in the last sunset. And, also a maybe, this story about the new Stone would interest our singular and temporary ally. _

_ Among other things, Greta, my temporary ghost, is gone. I’d rather believe that she left in peace; fighting her once was enough. When I was almost sleeping, her desperate lament would come to me and I didn’t know what to do. I tried to talk to her, to look for her in that blind immensity that was the prison of the jewel, but it was like swimming in tar. The closer I’d get to her, the more evasive our connection would become, until I’d wake up empty-handed once again. I also made the correct decision of carrying the Stone prototype myself: nothing happened to me other than the contact with Greta. Wherever she is, I also hope that she’ll forgive me, since the idea of keeping her among us after her passing was mine. _

_ The only good memories that I carry are from the dead. Pavel rests somewhere in the monastery, together with his brothers of doctrine. I believe he was a good man, stricken by the misfortune of stumbling upon human cruelty. Whoever killed him is a mystery that, probably, lies with him in the tomb. However, a ‘sumptuous camp’ where people sing, in his words, is a rare sight in ravaged Wallachia of the last times. I’ll keep my eyes open. _

_ General Dragoi, another deceased man, is today a caricature of what he once was. In my belief, he’s not only sublimated to thereafter once and for all due to pure sarcasm: living was of his liking, but death never scared him. One can read about him in my father’s scriptures, at times. ‘The cowardly little soldier,’ he’d write. Dragoi had little tolerance to night creatures, given that he’d retreat with whatever troops he had to the minimal sign of that kind of threat; in his time, the Belmont still held themselves in the Hold, and Trevor’s relatives kept everything more or less under control. The general was a human whose greatest enemies were of his own kind. In his intimate life, perhaps, he had more than an iron fist to give to the ones that surrounded him, as he treated me in a courteous manner, but to outsiders, he’d speak only the language of the sword. _

_ To sum it up, I want to be alone today. It’s a day in which I’d be satisfied a kilometer far from any other person, comfortable in the castle towers. It’s also possible that I’d sleep and wake up when there would be snowfall already; whatever I craved more at the time. There is as much silence as possible now, but the drizzle on the mud, the horses’ hooves, the flight of the birds, and Trevor’s occasional complaint are enough to leave me dismayed. Writing these pages is sort of a safe haven for me, and for them, I’m thankful. _

_ Shall today bring some sun rays.” _

In another half an hour, Trevor stopped by a stable, and a gentleman with a grey head opened the upper part of the door:

“Where do you come from?” he asked in a rude tone.

“From the North, from Snagov.” Trevor scratched his head. “Why?”

“Thanks to the Lord. To the horses, please come.”

The other two got off to help them unload and unharness the animals.

“What’s going on, sir?” Trevor asked.

“Haven’t you heard?” The man turned his head, showing his frightened expression. “There’s a plague in the southern villages. We have to guard against it, see?”

“I had no idea,” Trevor said, “an illness, maybe?”

Alucard turned around the wagon to fetch their belongings, still all ears.

“Seems like it. I don’t know. People die like flies, entire villages are empty. The ill have been departing to Bucharest looking for doctors, or a blessing, since only our Lord knows what is going on.” The man sighed. “First, the ill gasps for air, as something in their lungs. Then, they become but skin and bone, no matter what they eat, and they can’t get out of bed. A few days later, the dawn welcomes a corpse.”

“Should we worry?” Sypha inquired.

“I’d tell you to turn around North and forget your trip. Every single day, there’s at least one dead person.”

_ Well, we can’t say that we expected that. _ Trevor asked him to grab the coin bag and Alucard looked for it, finding it lighter than expected. As Trevor got it, he made the same face.

“Sir,” Trevor began, “isn’t there, by any chance, a roof to fix or something? In exchange of the hay, at least.”

“There isn’t, pal.” The man shook his head. “Cash only.”

“I can clean hooves.” Trevor smiled.

The stable owner measured him with his eyes. “We’re quite needing it. Deal?”

“Deal.” Trevor held out a hand and the other man shook it.

**~**

The sky began pouring down on the humble inn the stable owner kept by his house. The saloon, made to accommodate maybe twenty people, was empty, but its fireplace was lit. No one was behind the counter. The two women that took care of the place, the owner’s wife and his daughter, had already gone to sleep. They had locked the entrance and left them with access only to the bedroom. The half full beer mugs were on the bench beside Trevor’s leg, and he grabbed any of them to sip. Sypha also got hers, but held onto it, looking at the fire.

“What about now?” she whispered, what was enough in that place.

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I really don’t.”

“There’s work everywhere, if that’s the case. But we’ve come this far…”

“Yeah.” He held her better in his arms. “I know it is hard to believe, but I have a good feeling about Bucharest.”

“You do?” Sypha had disinterest in her voice.

“As much as one can have in a time like this.”

“A good feeling about what?”

“Uh, well… I don’t know.” Trevor scratched his head. “I just guess that there’s something in the city for us.”

_ I know it’s hard, but I’m here. _ He held her hand, caressing it with his thumb. The fireplace crackled, almost inaudible with the sound of the storm. A drop or another found its way down the chimney, evaporating as it touched the fire. _ She knows about the scarce money. I have no time to count the coins as I conduct horses. _ Sypha turned her head and approached her face from his as a thump on the roof scared them. They stood up and walked around the saloon trying to detect where did the sound come from. There was another thump, a more distant one.

“I think it’s on the stable,” Sypha suggested.

“It must be.” He pulled her by a hand. “Now, come back here.”

She tripped a bit as she was brought closer and suddenly kissed. They followed hand in hand up to a lateral exit, forgotten unlocked, one that took them to the owner’s house. He waited for them with his wife, both in sleeping clothes and with a lit candle.

“You heard that, too?” the man asked, terrified, “What was that?”

Trevor shrugged. “We were going to check exactly now.”

“Follow me.” The owner made a head motion for both, barring his wife with an arm. “I think it came from the stable.”

With keys in his hand, the man got a cloak from a hook on the wall. They crossed the room and opened another door. The storm muffled it, but the horses’ uneasiness could be heard from there. Sypha pulled her cloak over her head and Trevor flinched under the fur on his shoulders. The water splashed on them mercilessly. The man protected the candle as he could, and it retributed being blown out by the window and a drop of rain.

In the balcony of the stable, it was impossible to see. The owner asked them if they had a flint. Trevor thought twice, got a candle from his belt, and handed it to Sypha. She got the message and lit it discreetly behind her cloak. They got in, looking at the floor made of stone and coming across a puddle. On the roof, there was a crack on the tiles, near the wall.

Trevor giggled. “Now there _ is _ a roof to fix.”

The owner looked at them with suspicions. “I hope that was not your doing.”

“I guarantee that we were dry and warm when you found us, sir.” Trevor raised a finger. “And that there’s no trace of water on the saloon floor.”

The man thought a bit before he seemed to believe it. More and more water ran on the wall, flooding the uneven floor.

“Good God, the hay.” The man stepped back, further away from the growing puddle. “It’ll be drenched if we don’t do anything.”

“We can try and fix it right now,” Trevor said.

“Are you crazy?” the man exclaimed, “How are you standing on the roof in this weather?”

Trevor and Sypha exchanged looks.

“Any plan?” he asked.

“Maybe,” she said.

The stable owner searched a corner, bringing them boards and ropes from there. He pointed at the dark of the balcony. “We have a ladder there. It’s not one of the best, but…”

Trevor untied his cloak and picked it up. “It’ll have to do.”

As he put it near the leak on the roof, he asked Sypha to climb on the other side. Stepping carefully, a step came after another, and each creak on them made him grit his teeth. He waited until Sypha called him over the rain and the thunderstorm that she was on top of the tiles.

“Now, put the board,” she shouted to Trevor.

Trevor took a hand off of the ladder to grab the board that the stable owner handed him. He put it on the roof.

“Like that?” he shouted back.

“To the left,” she replied in the same tone. Trevor moved the board. “Not _ that _ to the left. To the middle. Like that, don’t move.”

Trevor saw the pair of ropes cross the hole and a blink of fire coming from outside, from her hands. _ She might want to see what she’s doing. _ Sypha stopped knotting all of a sudden. 

With his arms up to hold the board, Trevor complained, “I can’t hold it forever.”

“Just a second,” she shouted.

Trevor tied an improvised knot from inside using a single hand, as the other one supported him on the ladder. The stable owner raised his candle to see his efforts and held the ladder for him. Sypha cried that she finished, and Trevor climbed down. Sypha also left the roof and walked up to the other two with something in her hands.

“See it,” she handed them the object, “it was up there.”

Trevor widened his eyes. It was a bird feather as long as a human arm, dark as the night. As he got it, he saw a reddish reflex on the color.

“It’s huge.” Trevor sulked. “And it’s bad news.”

**~**

Alucard opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. It occurred to him he could blow out the candle, but he left it as it was. He just stretched, under the shabby blankets of the inn, and felt his foot touching the bed frame. He heard the sounds of the storm outside. The extensive beds of other places were ones to be missed. _ It’s still better than a straw mount. _ He felt a sting in his neck and held his breath. Tired from the position, he sat, leaning on the headboard. _ I was dreaming. _ He shook his head. _ Just a meaningless dream. _

He seemed to be alone in the bedroom. _ Exactly what I wanted earlier. _ He put a hand on his chest. There was a weight in it; a dense, opaque void that was almost palpable. His nails pressed his palm until he almost cut them. _ It doesn’t hurt. _ He held out a hand to the flame of the candle, without touching it. _ Not enough, at least. _ After insisting a bit, he gave up, and his arm fell to the bed. He closed his eyes and felt them tearing up. _ Why? What is this? _ There was just enough time to stabilize his breath and fight back the tears when the door opened.

Trevor came in first, looking like he brought trouble with him. Sypha was the last, with a worried expression and something in her hands.

“We found a thing on the roof.” Trevor took off his drenched cloak and hanged it. “Do you recognize this?”

Sypha handed Alucard the long, dark feather.

“It’s from a giant raven.” Alucard put a hand on his chin. “The kind that feeds on meat. It must be hunting around the region. Where was it?”

Trevor rolled his eyes. “On the roof, as I said.”

Alucard replied with a mean look. “Which part of the roof?”

“On the stable.” Trevor pointed at his back with a thumb. “The thing must know there are horses inside.”

“That’s what I thought.” Alucard gave Sypha the feather. “Not that birds are good sniffers, but horses are a feast in comparison to us.”

“Are these ravens infectious?” Sypha frowned. “It doesn’t seem like a thing that a raven would be.”

Trevor laid down in bed. “Not that I remember. It must be another thing causing that one plague. Now, if you excuse me.”

Alucard stood up against his will, headed to the hay mount covered by a blanket. _ It’ll be hard for me to sleep again. _

**~**

Sypha woke up for the thousandth time after a thunder, one that she could not tell if it came from a dream or not. She blinked several times to remove the blur from her eyes and got up from the bed. _ If it’s already small enough for a single person… _ She straightened her aching back, walked up to the window, and opened it. _ It’s already daytime. I’d sleep a thousand more hours. _She yawned and went back to wake Trevor up with a shoulder shake. In tune with her, he yawned enough to swallow up the planet and got up from the mattress, waking Alucard up with a poke from a foot.

Trevor poked his head out of the window. “It seems like a good day to get moving. It’s not raining.” He went back in the bedroom. “Even if it’s a quagmire outside because of yesterday.”

In the saloon, the owners served them a mug of beer for each, oat bread and carrot soup with beef jerky. The server was the smiling young wife of the stable owner. _ No matter what I do, my body won’t stop aching. _ As Sypha ate, she saw the owner’s wife exchanging an instruction with the even younger daughter of said man. _ This woman isn’t old enough to be her mother. _ She also saw the girl stomp her feet as she left. _ Teenagers… _ From the corner of her eye, Sypha noticed that the girl glared at Trevor with more than curiosity. _ So keep on just looking. _Sypha frowned and made sure to suddenly kiss him.

They soon harnessed the horses to put the weather to good use and paid the owner. He gave them back some coins.

“For the roof. I’d never fix it on my own.” He handed them to Trevor. “Are you really heading South?”

“We are, sir, until second notice.” Trevor scratched his head.

The man waved at them. “May the Lord protect you.”

“Thanks, sir. May the roof not break again.”

The first village that the road brought did not have a single soul. The thorp was planted right after a ravine in which the wagon was stranded, with a wheel in the mud. They got off to remove it from there, with great help from Alucard: he raised it like a three-legged stool. They made use of the moment to walk a bit among the empty houses and the dense fog. _ It’s not too different from the rest of the villages, but… _ Each of her steps echoed on the streets. _ There are no signs of life here. _

In the middle of the location, after a bridge where a stream divided the map, she tried the door of one of the most presentable houses. Much to her surprise, it was open. She popped her head in it and saw nothing more than an empty living room. She waved so that the other two followed her, and they all entered.

The curtains made of good fabric began to accumulate dust. Sypha opened them and the little light of that day shone there. The two-floor habitation had remains of candles, withered petals, and dried bouquets thrown on the ground.

“A funeral,” Sypha whispered. _ What did we expect? _

Trevor turned around them both and climbed upstairs. They followed him uninvited and saw them enter one of the bedrooms, rummaging under the mattress and in a chest left behind. Under some blankets, already old rags, he found with a victorious smile a forgotten coin bag.

“Nice stroke of luck.” He put it in his belt. “Check if there’s something useful in the other rooms.”

“You don’t intend to take it, do you?” Alucard asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Consider leaving it behind? They’re but pennies.” Trevor shrugged.

“That doesn’t make you any less guilty of looting people’s houses.” Alucard crossed his arms.

“There’s a great possibility that the owner is no longer living to care,” Trevor replied.

Alucard rolled his eyes. “Leave it where you found it.” He pointed at the chest. “It’s not like we’re going to starve due to the lack of these coins. We can gather money in other ways.”

“If you keep on pestering me about that, I’m entering other houses,” Trevor threatened, “How about a full day of exploration? Sypha, what’s your take?”

“My take’s that we’re back in the wagon.” She headed to the door. “Let’s go. It won’t conduct itself to Bucharest.”

_ And it’s the last place I want to go. _ She was the first to climb down the stairs, with her body aching at every step, and left the house ignoring Trevor’s complaints. Her throat itched. _ It must be the dust. _ She sat on the coachman’s bench and kept on pretending she was not listening to the conductor by her side.

The two next villages were also unoccupied, and they passed by them without a second look. The fourth one, however, had inhabitants that entered home and closed the doors as they saw the passing wagon. _ It’s strange to think I’ve walked this path before. _ She looked around and tried to squeeze her mind for some memory, some spark of remembrance about that surroundings, finding nothing. _ What is different, and what is the same? _ She sighed. _ This kind of place is stuck in time. _ She dragged her body to the side, resting her head on Trevor’s shoulder, and received a fleeting kiss on her forehead. A flash startled them, and they looked at the sky; a thunder resounded in the sky, which was darkened by the rainy clouds and the upcoming evening.

“Let’s stop by a stable,” Sypha suggested, “we’ve already rode a good distance today.”

Trevor braked the wagon at the end of the village and got off, knocking on the door without an answer. He dared to push it unsuccessfully.

“There’s no one.” A voice surged from the side of the building.

Trevor turned around, and Sypha stretched her neck to see. She noticed a gentleman of uncountable decades, disheveled hair as white as milk and a dense, poorly cared beard. _ His eyes… _ She saw the irises, also whitish. He was as thin as a stick, and when Trevor opened his mouth to speak to him, the old man had a coughing fit that seemed endless. _ Dear Lord. _ Trevor covered his face with an arm and stepped back.

“Sorry,” the old man said when he could breathe again. He spat a bit of blood. “Who’s there? Are you a local?”

“No, sir,” Trevor replied, “I’m a traveler. My name’s Trevor.”

“What a coincidence! Mine, too.” He coughed again. “The things that happen, huh?”

“Can I do something for you, sir?” Trevor asked.

He shook his head. “I’m afraid you can’t, son.”

Sypha smiled at nobody, feeling a heartache. _ He must be way older than my grandfather. _

“Ain’t you hungry?” Trevor asked, kneeling at a safe distance from the cough, “Thirsty, maybe?””

“Yes, I’m thirsty. But why should I care?” The old man coughed some more.

Sypha looked back to Alucard in the wagon and made a gesture for him to approach. She asked for the water flask; he nodded and handed it to her, as well as a cup. She got off from the bench, filled it, and gave it to young Trevor.

“Here, sir,” he showed, “Hold out a hand.”

The man stretched his left hand. _ He’s shaking. _

“The other hand.” Trevor chuckled in a sad tone. “Well, forget it. I’m giving you the water.”

He carefully took the cup to the man’s parched lips, and he drank it as if it was a sort of nectar.

“Thank you, young man.” The old man coughed. “Thanks a lot.”

“Do you have a home, sir?” Trevor asked.

“I’ve been on the streets for years now.”

“Family, perhaps?”

The old man let out a bitter laugh. “If you can find one of my children, slap them on the ear for leaving me to look after myself.”

Sypha felt her heart aching some more. _ Let them talk. _

“And do you happen to know where they are?” Trevor inquired.

“Hmph. They’re lost in this world.” The old man coughed some more. “I think they sold our property and left to gamble in Targoviste. Now that I’m sick of this one plague, I’m finding them and haunting them soon.”

“How long have you been sick, sir?” Trevor asked.

“For days, I believe.” The old man scratched his beard. “Before the stable owners left.” He coughed for a whole minute. “There was the night in which I’ve heard something in the sky. It wasn’t raining. It reads like some wings flapping. On the next day, I woke up with a cough.”

“Wings?” Trevor frowned.

_ But that one crow isn’t infectious, _ Sypha thought, _ now, this plague… _

“Big, strong wings. Something flying above our heads.” The old man cleared his throat. “Maybe over the roofs.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t ask you what it was, sir,” Trevor said.

“And I won’t be able to answer, son.” He shook his head. “I’m as blind as a mole.”

“Can you tell if there’s a hospital nearby, though?” Trevor asked.

“In Bucharest there is, for sure. Around here, everything that we have are witchdoctors. Some of them died.” The old man laughed ironically. “I’m the wall that has a pair of ears.”

Young Trevor put a hand on his own chin. “Would you come with us, sir? We’re headed to Bucharest. We can leave you under the care of the brothers… or sisters, whatever comes first.”

“A helping hand?” The old man coughed. “I’m a bag of bones living on borrowed time. I’m not one to refuse a ride, though. Here, get me up.” He stretched his hands and young Trevor held them; the old man fell to the ground, letting out a groan. Young Trevor then kneeled to pick him up. _ He must weigh as much as a child, _ Sypha thought. There was more coughing on the way to the wagon, and Trevor put the old man on the bench opposite to Alucard’s, between two luggage bags. _ His days are numbered, indeed. _

Sypha poked young Trevor on the shoulder as they sat on the coachman’s bench. “Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not.” He closed his eyes, fighting back the tears. “Would you rather overlook it?”

She touched his forearm. “No.”

Sypha looked back and saw Alucard’s serious semblant. _ I know, it’s not the wisest idea there is. _

“Tell us if you need something.” Trevor turned his neck to talk to the old man. “There’s another one of us in the wagon.”

“I think I’ll be a quiet passenger, son,” the man replied.

They rode in silence. The night fell before they could reach the next village, after more than an hour on the road. They all got off the wagon, except for the old man: young Trevor made him an improvised bed of hay and two blankets. He got the man from the wagon, taking him to the fireplace. Another soup was made with the provisions, as well as oatmeal with water and honey for the guest. Sypha sat beside the old man, fighting the body ache, introducing herself and the bowl. She gave him sparse full spoons for which he thanked a lot.

“God is good, some soft oat.” He coughed. “My teeth barely exist. There’s not much an ill-founded like me can do to pay you back, but I can entertain you talking about myself.”

“Please, sir,” Sypha agreed.

“Very well.” The man cleared his throat. “This name of mine wasn’t given to me out of the blue. My parents were French, see. I was born here due to a delay on their trip back home. They were merchants of fine wines, and my mother’s health, may God rest her soul, got complications.” He paused to cough. “They stayed in Wallachia with me, making do with a lot less than they had there in France.”

“I grew up and studied in the seminar as they wished. I left everything because of a beautiful woman, as almost all young men do, huh? She was as in love with me as I was with her. My son and daughter were born, and with her I stayed until the Lord took her from me. A fall off a horse.” He took a deep breath and coughed again. “I never got married again. Never wanted to.”

“My father-in-law offered me a property, a small piece of land, even if we never got along, and there I hid from the world. I helped him manage the farm… and my children had other plans for me, other than leaving me mourn in peace.” He coughed. “They wanted the little land I owned. To sell it, I mean. My eyesight was going downhill by the hour, and they decided to dump me in the village. Two cowards, without the guts to poison me. Or to suffocate me in my sleep! Whatever. Anything.”

Young Trevor threw a stick in the fire. “It was quite a life, sir.”

“It wasn’t. It was a misfortune.” The old man coughed. “But I hope that was enough of a tale.”

Young Trevor took the other to the wagon and came back to lay with Sypha around the fireplace. Alucard suited himself alone, as usual, looking at the lack of stars in the sky. _ I just hope it doesn’t rain on us… _ she thought, _ and that we don’t lose our new friend so soon. _

**~**

Trevor heard something; he felt the same something moving in front of him. He blinked his eyes several times. _ What’s going on? _ As he raised his body putting his forearm on the floor, he looked at Sypha lying in her place, livid and suffocating.

_ No, no, no, no. _ He held her by her shoulders and put her sitting. She breathed poorly, with her eyes wide open and a hand on her chest. He did not let her go, not even for a second. _ May the Lord have mercy, or just anything. _ From the corner of the eye, he saw that Alucard approached and was around. No one dared to ask what happened. Suddenly, she had a strong coughing fit until there was color to her face again.

“What was that?” Alucard let out.

“I don’t know.” Sypha cleaned a tear from her eye. “It never happened before.”

Trevor held her hand and noticed a fever, as well as a tremble. He also felt his throat itching and coughed briefly.

Alucard stared at them. “You guys are sick.”

_ We are. _ Trevor felt a weight in his stomach. _ The plague. _

Alucard still spent a moment by Sypha’s side, looking at the ground. He stood up, and Trevor did so as well, with the untimely itch in his larynx and an aching body.

“It’s beautiful to see you being altruistic once in your life, to be written in History,” Alucard said, “it’s a shame it’s going to cost your life.”

“What’s that now?” Trevor asked, “We don’t know how we got-”

“Don’t be foolish,” Alucard interrupted, “I didn’t know you had invited me out to come here and watch you kill yourself.”

“It could be something we caught in the air,” Trevor argued, “think a bit.”

“Exactly, you moron.” Alucard raised his voice. “Don’t tell me to think.”

Trevor sighed and clenched his fist, feeling his muscles tense up and hurt. “Don’t make me break you in two in this state I am.”

“You can try.” Alucard opened his arms, lowering his guard with a smirk. “I know you’re crazy to lash out on me since that time.”

“I’m blind, not deaf, you brats,” the old man shouted from the wagon, “if you want to get rid of me, better do it like men.”

Alucard turned his back on them and stepped forward. He looked over his shoulder, leaving to the interior of the woods around the roadside._ I’m not going after him. _ Sypha stood up and walked up to him, holding him by the arm without saying a word. She fell again in a surge of shortness of breath. Trevor ran to her and held her in panic. Alucard waited, his back facing them, until she coughed and could breathe again.

“Sorry,” Alucard said, looking at the woods, before he left.

Trevor put her on her feet, with little strength in his muscles, and took her back to the camp. He lit the extinguished bonfire, brought the old man from the wagon to the warm spot, and sat with Sypha. They held hands, looking at the cinders, as the sun rose behind the overcast sky.

The old man got half his body up from the hay mount. “Am I going to die?”

“No, sir.” Trevor let out a sad laugh. “What would that do for us?”

They ate the pale soul, remains from the evening, as if it tasted like nothing, and without a single word.

“I don’t know why you worry,” the old man said as he finished his bowl, “I can kick the bucket tomorrow.”

Young Trevor shook his head. “Because I’m an idiot.” _ It was easier when I left humanity kill itself. _ He pressed Sypha’s hand, which had a burning fever, and felt himself shiver. “A dead idiot, sir.”


	18. Deadline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone, how are you? Is someone there? I hope so for both questions. Today's notes are a bit sad: this story will take a bit longer to be updated after this chapter than I was planning. I'm neither giving up on the story nor putting it on a long hiatus. The chapters are just not going to be released bi-weekly anymore, instead being published as I'm done with them. There won't be a fixed publishing schedule, but when I publish them, it's going to be on Fridays. I'm doing this for my own well-being and for the sake of quality, because I don't want to force myself to write something half-assedly just to update quickly. Thanks for understanding and being with me so far.

_ Another village, another stable.  _ Trevor sighed.  _ This time, there might be people at home.  _ He got off the coachman’s seat after pulling the reins with his aching arms and knocked on the door of the place. The middle-aged woman who answered made an effort for sympathy, in spite of everything, and he noticed that there was a twig behind her ear, among her blonde hair. He counted the remaining coins to give her, already together with the ones found in the empty house; as he got the coin bag back, the lack of weight did not please him.  _ It might last for about five days. If I’m even alive till then.  _

The road, however had been an easier, drier one, as the seasonal rain called for a truce.  _ No wonder, either. The wagon is about eighty kilograms lighter.  _ He coughed lightly, feeling a perennial itch in the back of his throat, one he tried to push away by scratching with his tongue.

After the first woman and a younger working woman helped him accommodate the horses, he called the owner in a corner.

“I have an ill old man with me,” Trevor whispered, “where can I take care of him?”

The woman shook her head at the inevitable. “I know where you can try. But it’s good that you’ve put the horses to rest already. You’ll have to go on foot.”

They crossed the village without looking around much, heading to a steep dirt road that crossed a grove. After ravines, ups and downs, roots and slips, the terrible path showed them a glade with a decrepit cottage and a fenced vegetable garden, sided by a well and everything surrounded by an aromatic plant.  _ It’s rosemary. _ The bush was a rare sight among the people, a hard thing to grow in the Wallachian land and weather.  _ The same plant the woman had on her ear. _

Trevor put the old man on his feet, supporting him with an arm, and heard his cough in a funeral choir with Sypha. As she first coughed, Trevor jumped in fear, but her fit did not end in shortness of breath. He knocked twice on the door of the cottage without an answer. They waited until a woman appeared from the grove, another middle-aged one, with suspicious eyes and a basket full of harvested mushrooms.

“What do you want here?” she inquired. “Don’t tell me you’ve got the plague.”

Trevor shrugged his shoulders. She let out a heavy sigh, lowered her head, and entered home without inviting them to do so. They followed her anyway.  _ She can expel us, if anything. _

He gently pushed the door to close it.  _ This is so-called Madam Marisa. _ According to the woman in the stable, she did not like the “madam”, as well as crosses, horses, or children; any of those things would get them out of her property under broom blows. Marisa had deep dark circles under her eyes and cascading black hair, which began to lose their color. She hid part of her hair in a kerchief.  _ Can she save lives with that face? _ Trevor avoided a somber laugh.

The house smelled like so many herbs it was impossible to decide which one had a stronger scent. It lacked light and there was a profusion of objects in that two-room space. Marisa headed to the stove, stirring one of the cauldrons. Trevor had time to see that she dismissed any dresses and wore pants. The healer turned herself to the kitchen table and began to take the paraphernalia out of it. With a head tilt, she told him to put the old man there, and when Trevor let him go, he had a coughing fit that seemed endless. 

Marisa turned her nose up. “The payment,” she said.

Trevor handed her a bag in which he used to carry coins, now full of seeds of all kinds. Marisa opened it and spread the seeds on a corner of the table, examining them with some precision before putting them back in the bag. She seemed satisfied, turning to a wooden jar with a lid.

“It’s going to have some ants in it.” Marisa chuckled bitterly. “You can’t see, right, sir?”

“It’s been almost a decade, proudly,” the old man replied.

“So, open your mouth,” she said.

She uncapped the jar and stuck a spoon in it to gather some sort of syrup. She gave the same to Trevor and Sypha, after noticing their cough, and they coughed some more as they swallowed the overly sweet flavor.

“It shall go away.” Marisa pointed her hands at two chairs. “Please, don’t stay there on your feet.”

They both sat. She turned to the stove again, poking the cinders, and stirred the content of a pan full of leaves.

“That was the good part. The bad one is this one.” She got a spoonful of the liquid with a ladle and poured it in mugs. 

The first sip on the tea made Trevor want to chew on a whole white willow.

“How long has it been?” Marisa asked.

“That we’re ill?” Trevor replied. “It began today, ma’am, for us both. To the gentleman over there, it’s been some days.”

“So, I shall see you alive a bit more.” Marisa looked at the old man, who began coughing. “Or maybe not.”

Trevor rested his arms on the arms of the chair. “We don’t really intend to die.”

Marisa chuckled. “Now that I began to like you.”

Trevor frowned. “It’s not something I hear every day.”

Sypha gave him a mean look.  _ What? _ He retributed without understanding what was that about.

“Is he you guys’ father?” Marisa pointed at the old man.

“No,” the old man replied when he stopped coughing. “I’m not so lucky to have such good children.”

The woman seemed to care very little about the answer and put the house a bit more into order. In a corner covered by a sheet, Trevor saw her discreetly pulling the fabric down, dusting it to cover it up.  _ Those are books.  _

Sypha also seemed to notice. “Do you read as well?” she asked.

Marisa reacted grabbing a shining knife from somewhere and wielding it. “You’re not taking me from here, you devout bastards.”

Trevor and Sypha raised their hands in peace. 

“I’m excommunicated, ma’am,” he said as if he would tell her he had calloused feet. “It’s been a good ten years I don’t step inside a church.”  _ If you don’t take into account the short trip to one back in Gresit, of course. _

“Prove it,” Marisa ordered, without changing in the slightest.

“I’m taking off my belt and throwing it on the floor so that you see it. Calm down. Don’t stab me.” Trevor unbuckled and threw it carefully.

Marisa stepped forward, still looking at them with a piercing gaze. She lowered her eyes just to peek at the belt with the Belmont crest. “Who could tell?” She laughed, not letting go of the knife.

“Isn’t it?” Trevor rested his raised hands.

The healer took a while pondering if she trusted them until she stabbed the knife onto a wooden cutting board. “A Belmont here, and what else?” She frowned at Sypha.

“A Speaker, ma’am,” Sypha replied.

Marisa stared at her as if she expected no response. “I thought your kind lived in flocks, girl.”

“Actually, we do.” Sypha also lowered her hands. “I’m an exception.”

Old Trevor coughed. “And I’m just part of the scene, if it pleases you.”

Marisa ignored the jest, turning herself to another mysterious jar that contained something like powdered plants. She got some boiling water from a cauldron, threw it into a metal mug, stirred it with the powder, and gave it to the old man, whose cough began to happen just once every ten minutes.

“It’ll make you sleep,” Marisa explained. “It won’t kill you, don’t worry.”

“Even if it killed.” The old man shrugged. “It’ll take away this horrid taste in my mouth.”

“You don’t look like you’re locals. Are you travelers?” Marisa asked Trevor.

He straightened his back in that small chair. “We’re going to Bucharest.”

“To do what? Not pilgrimage, I guess.” She smirked.

“We were delivering a letter, at first.”  _ If the damn letter had not disappeared in the forest. _

“At first?” Marisa put a hand on her chin. “Letter? You’re telling me that story.”

Trevor sighed and looked at Sypha. “You do the honors,” he said.

With the same tired face, she told Marisa of the curse of Ploiesti in details and the sad fate of Leo Alexe, whose suicide attempt disguised as an accident had been registered on paper. Said paper was with Alucard, wherever he was.

“You didn’t tell me a thing about that,” the old man complained.

Trevor giggled. “It could make you run away.”

“Running, with these two legs?” The old man laughed and coughed some more.

Marisa stepped forward to assess everyone’s temperature. “You’d better drink some of this, too.” She pointed at the tea for sleeping. “It’ll help you rest, and maybe the fever.”

She found another mug to give to the other two. As she approached them to give it, Sypha began to cough and her breath was short. Marisa opened the windows and stood by her side, holding her shoulder, in a way that almost seemed affable.

“Does she have something with her lungs?” Marisa asked Trevor.

“No.” Trevor buried his nails in his palm. “She’s never had it.”

Sypha gasped some more until she could breathe again, one hand on her chest and the other brushing away some tears. Marisa closed the windows against the drizzle that began to fall and offered them the tea again.

“Which other strange stuff have you done?” The healer put both hands on her waist.

_ How should we begin? _ The two exchanged looks, then stared at the old man on the table. He slept peacefully and without a warning, coughing just a bit. Marisa kneeled in front of them to listen to the story about the slaying of the wolf, meeting Pavel, and the event in the crypt. The woman listened to everything making faces and with unmatched attention.

“Is it what you do for a living?” She pointed at the two. “Getting in trouble?”

“No,” they replied at the same time. “Well, yes.”

“I’m jealous.” Marisa got up and stirred a cauldron. She pointed at Sypha with the spoon. “Especially of you. Word has it there is Speaker blood running in my veins. I can’t barely levitate a cup, though. Everything I’ve got are herbs and fire. Now, I don’t think you’ve got the plague.”

“Uh, don’t we?” Trevor frowned.

“Doesn’t seem like it. No one has had this shortness of breath before. And the symptoms get worse by the hour. You’re not looking like corpses.” Marisa turned her back on them and shrugged. “It might be many things. Something from the crypt. Getting in touch with that dead man. Did the wolf bite you?”

“It didn’t bite us.”  _ But it did bit Alucard, _ he thought. Where would he be by then?

“Well, another possibility to discard.” Marisa began washing the mushrooms in a bowl. “You told me that the dead man was already a skeleton. I think it’s not very likely that it’s his fault. The crypt, then, is more probable. Every kind of bug and pest lives in those places.”

Trevor coughed, feeling his sore throat.  _ I wonder if it’s another thing. _ His head also hurt, and he pressed his forehead until it went away.  _ Maybe I’m not a dead man. _

“There was another one of you, that’s what you said?” Marisa asked. Sypha nodded and the healer went on, “And he showed no signs of sickness?”

Trevor drank the tea, which tasted tremendously better than the first one. “Not even a single cough.”

“Hmm. And he’s…” Marisa approached to whisper, “just half human?” 

Sypha nodded again behind her mug. 

“What kind of half is the other?” Marisa inquired.

_The kind to make a fuss about stuff and deserve to be grounded_, he thought. “The kind that drinks blood and isn’t fond of crosses.”

Marisa pointed at him. “The kind that you Belmonts hunt.”

Trevor nodded. “Exactly.”

Marisa stood up and was back to the cauldron. “And why do you even work together?”

“That’s a long story, ma’am.” Trevor held back calling her “Madam”.

Marisa opened a fret of the window to peek outside. “It’s not too late yet.” She closed it. “Tell me your long story and I’ll allow you to stay for the night.”

Sypha and Trevor looked at each other and she left her recent silence to recite the memories. She began by her own journey and also from theirs as a trio, since the stop in Gresit up to her rescue, meeting the Sleeping Soldier from the prophecy, their travels, their visit to the Hold, conquering the castle, and the final battle.  _ You’re so beautiful when you speak.  _ He held her hand tighter in the difficult parts, and filled in a detail or another without arguing about who was right.  _ And now, God knows where’s our dignified sidekick we went to pick up more than once. _ Sypha finished her report as if she descended and landed from a flight, and Marisa slowly clapped after her perfect silence under the sound of the rain.

The healer smiled a bit, with a respectful look. “I like to believe I’m among heroes.”

“There was no lie.” Trevor looked away and scratched his head. “No part of it.”

“Not even the story about the stick?” Marisa laughed. “Please.”

He laughed as well. “I swear, ma’am.”

Marisa got up from the stool and began to serve them the food, a mix of roots from the garden with mushrooms. “To think I wanted to stab you without listening to this.” She handed Trevor his bowl.

He threw a piece of the roast in his mouth. “You don’t intend to keep up with that plan, right?”

Marisa chuckled sinisterly. “Carrying a dead body has to be worth it. About the runaway guy, though. Why is he gone?”

Sypha rolled her eyes. “Do we have to answer?”

Marisa frowned, with her mouth full. “It’d be good.”

“Because I doomed us.” Trevor sighed. “I saved the old man from the streets on an impulse.”

“Don’t be foolish.” The healer put her hands on her waist. “The people bring their ills here every single day. Don’t you think I’d be the first one to drop dead if it was contagious?”

_ How didn’t I think of this before?  _ Trevor felt a spark of hope in his chest, despite the sleepiness from the tea.

“Also.” Marisa got up from the stool and approached the old man, who slept with a weak breath. “I know what I’m talking about. No one has had a shortness of breath as the girl over there. You guys’ coughing is too weak and inconsistent. It can only be something else.”

~

“Are you sure?”

_ I’m not. _ “I am.” Sypha leaned in to kiss him. “Stay here and help her.”

She pulled the hood over her head to protect her from the drizzle, both at Marisa’s doorstep. Trevor looked at her with a worried expression behind a severe semblant. She took a deep breath and let out a long sigh, looking down.

“I’ll go,” he insisted, holding her shoulder. “Stay here.”

“It’s slower if you go by land.”

“I can track.”

“I can fly.” Sypha smiled gently. “Also, do you think he’ll want to see you?”

“He doesn’t want to see  _ anyone _ . Your charming presence is not going to change that.”

“That’s not about me.” Sypha frowned and coughed. “That’s about facts.”

“Let it go. He’ll find us sooner or later, even if just to play the know-it-all role again.”

“Sooner is better than later, Trevor. Before he goes too far.”

“I’m in serious doubt if we should waste our time.”

_ Me too. _ “Let’s give him a last chance.”

“And he’ll have to prove himself, or he’s out and can go take a nap in the coffin.”

“Deal.” She kissed him again and was pulled in a heartwarming hug, one that lasted as if the world around stopped. They let go; she stepped away and flew over the trail, without looking back.

The wind from above hurt like razors, and the high speed was bone-freezing. She floated over the surroundings of what she supposed to be Marisa’s property and the bumpy path they had walked, finding no more than trees and an empty road. Closer to the village, a wizened old lady pulled a horse under the same rain.

_ If I were him, where would I be? _ She headed north in a turn, to the way they came from earlier.  _ I don’t think he’s in any tavern. Nor in a market, if there’s even one in this weather.  _ Flying over the deserted farms, with the land marked by grooves, Sypha sighed, the gust bringing more water to her face.  _ He might be in the forest… or somewhere like that. _ She descended, losing altitude without landing, and flew low near the roof of a cabin, few meters away from the ground.  _ What if…? _ She increased speed.  _ It’s worth a try. _

~

Marisa removed the sheet from the bookshelf to rummage through the books, got some volumes, and put them on a second table. The one by the kitchen was occupied by the sleeping old man. Trevor thought about asking what she was doing, but she was quicker than him.

“I know I gave you a sleeping tea.” She dumped another pile of books. “But I’ll need you awake.”

“Easier said than done.” Trevor sighed, with a hand on his forehead against some dizziness. “What do I have to do?”

“Oh, a bunch of things. You can start by fanning the flames.”

Between a profusion of “grab this”, “fetch that”, “not this one, the one by its side”, and “dust the books”, Marisa also worked all the time to turn the chaotic house into an ordered place.

“Every day, at least two patients come.” She climbed down from the stool after hanging a cooking spoon on a nail on the wall. “I feel like I’m living inside an old chest.”

Trevor looked around, barely recognizing the environment. “I thought that was the natural state of things.”

Marisa stared at him with a quirked eyebrow. “I hope you’re kidding, young man.” She picked up the chair where Sypha sat before and sat herself around the second table, that was way smaller than the biggest one. “Now, come over here, bring a candle, and help me find out what you two have.”

Heavier drops began pouring on the roof of the cottage. Trevor got a book from the table and opened it in whatever page.  _ To begin with, the best person to work with books isn’t even here. _ He looked over the piles and saw Marisa writing on a volume with a poorly kept quill. Back to the pages, he made a conscious effort not to think of Sypha under that rain. Marisa’s handwriting surprised him, as it was meticulous and pretty much readable.  _ “Patient: male, eighteen years old, blacksmith apprentice. Problems or symptoms: foot crushed by a hot anvil in the smith. Broken toes, loss of blood, unableness to walk…” _ Trevor felt his stomach turning. He skipped the treatment to the end of the text; there was a big X on the bottom right corner. He flipped some more pages without reading them and about a quarter of them had the same mark. 

“What is this?” he called her to show said mark, ponting at it. “I’ve come across some of these.”

Marisa got her eyes off of what she was writing and replied without a second thought, “They died.”

“Oh.”  _ I should’ve figured. _ “And where are the books with reports on the plague?”

“That one you’ve got in your hands might be from a year of two ago. They have dates on the first page.” She handed him a book by the same size, but with a better aspect. “Check this one.”

“What have you found so far?”

“Nothing that sounds like a conclusion.” Marisa frowned without removing her eyes from the quill. “The symptoms seem like a common cold at first, or something that afflicts the lungs.”

Trevor checked the year on the beginning and flipped to the most recent pages until he found the first X from October.  _ “Patient: male, twenty-eight years old, city guard. Problems or symptoms: intense cough, weight loss, weakness, fever. Treatment: honey and licorice three times a day, nettle tea three times a day, raw garlic cloves once a day, chamomile and valerian tea for sleeping once a day on sunset. Results: quick worsening and weakening.”  _ The next page began.  _ “Patient: male, twenty-six years old, city guard,” _ and the rest of the text was identical. On the third page, also a report of a man of similar age and profession. He called Marisa, and she replied with a face of someone who did not want to be interrupted.

“Why did three city guards die with the plague?” he asked.

“My first impression was that they infected one another.” She rested the quill on the table. “Until their families didn’t die, and neither did I.”

_ So, it’s something else. _ Trevor rested a hand on his chin, feeling his sore arm. He blinked slowly once; sleepiness from the tea began to affect him.  _ How I love working under pressure. _

“If I may ask,” Marisa said, “Haven’t you dealt with no other ill person lately? Beside the one sleeping right there. Anyone. Any illness.”

Trevor scratched an eye. “None, ma’am.”

“Don’t hide anything from me.”

He yawned. “My underwear has holes on it.”

“Hide some things.”

Trevor put his elbow on the table and his face on the hand. “Well, we’ve come across a giant raven’s feather.” He shrugged.

“Birds’ feces can make someone sick. A feather, though?” Marisa scratched her chin. “Wait, you said ‘giant’?”

“Flesh-eating, people-devouring giant.”

“That’s adorable.” She chuckled.

“It rained that day, though. If there was something on the feather, it was well washed.”

“You know, I doubt a bit that you guys have a common cold or something.” Marisa got up to close the window properly. “You’re not sneezing. I mean, you especially could have something like that, but the Speaker girl has that shortness of breath…”

“Do you think we have the same thing?”

“If you’ve walked around together all the time, you’ll hardly have different sicknesses.” She sat again. “Can you assure that?”

“We’re rarely apart from each other.”

Marisa had a disgusted face. “So, you’re that kind of couple…”

Trevor looked down as if the table could give him answers. He began tapping onto it with his fingers. _ I think I’m missing something. What is it? _ He closed his eyes, trying to brush away the sleepiness unsuccessfully.  _ A nap will do no harm.  _ He rested his head on the books, using them as pillows. Marisa protested, but he had no strength for a rebuttal.

His sleep was light and uncomfortable, with his senses awaken. The rain was still audible, as well as the crackling firewood in the stove, the quiet snoring of the old man, the flipping pages. His dream, however, was like a barrier that stretched when he tried to break it; images of the forest and the wolf, the destroyed camp in flames, screams he did not hear, the bell of the monastery, the voices of the monks in a choir. Alucard resting on the bed, sweating in his sleep, Alucard in the crypt, holding hands with them, Alucard with that expression that was not his, under the candlelight and the fire from the straw pyre in the middle of their circle… 

Trevor opened his eyes with the image of the red, incandescent stone staining his retin. He blinked several times and could not get rid of it. With a brush of his hand, as he whisked away a bug, he felt strangely awaken.

“The Stone,” he suddenly said.

“Stone?” Marisa asked, frowning.

Trevor looked at the old man, just to be sure that he was in his deepest sleep. He checked around for nothing and gestured so that Marisa would come closer. She dragged her chair to his side, leaving the opposite side of the table.

“I’m going to ask you to keep silent about it,” Trevor said.

Marisa smirked. “Don’t mention it.” 

“There’s a kind of stone that can make a person immortal.”  _ That’s not the only thing, but let’s go with that. _ “It’s called the Crimson Stone. A weak version of it can cause smaller absurdities.”

“What kind of absurdity are we talking about?”

“Like turning a person into a wolf. Our currently missing person is immune to that sort of thing. He carried said stone, and, well, nothing happened to him.”  _ Nothing serious, at least. _ “As for us both…”

She put a hand on her chin. “Your friend must be immune due to his peculiar origins.”

_ Friend? _ Trevor snorted. “That might be it.” He shrugged.

“And why are you talking about it now?”

“Because there was a day in which I and the Speaker came in touch with that Stone for a moment. On the night of the crypt.”

“That one where the girl set fire to the crystal and it became dust?”

“Exactly.”

Trevor felt his throat itching and began coughing, tasting blood in the back of his tongue.  _ Shit. _ Without hesitation, Marisa gave him another mug of the horrid tea, already cold, that he drank in a single chug in order not to recognize the taste. He coughed some more, choking a bit on the liquid.

“What should we do, then?” she asked. “The problem seems way out of my reach.”

“I’ll pay whatever’s needed.”

“You know that alone won’t heal you, right, Belmont?”

_ I do. _ He sighed, feeling sleepy again. Marisa tapped on his shoulder.

“Get some rest,” she suggested, “I’ll make you a bed and ask the girl to wake you up with a kiss of true love.”

He had no strength left to laugh. Marisa walked from a side to another until she found and spread a blanket on the floor. Another one was folded for a pillow. Trevor lied down on it and heard very little from his surroundings until he fell asleep.

~

Sypha arrived at the first unoccupied village, finding its weather to be a downpour that disturbed her flight. She put the already soaked hood back on her head, almost uselessly. Walking among the houses midtown, she took a while to recognize which one was the right one, having seen them covered in fog.  _ This one.  _ She pushed the door, and the smell of old petals remembered her that she was right. Fire was lit in her hands, and only when she saw the flickering flame, she noticed how much her body trembled.

A trace of water was left wherever she roamed, on the floor and the wooden stairsteps she climbed. On the steps, there was a forgotten posy of some white flower already with withered petals. As she raised her head to see the bedroom doors, her fire showed Alucard waiting for her, sword in his hand and a surprised semblant.

He sheathed his weapon once more and untied the cord that tied her cape to her neck, letting it fall on the floor. He took off his jacket and put it over her shoulders, as he held them with both hands, and pulled her in for a silent hug.  _ He’s warm. _ Sypha smiled as she corresponded the hug.  _ I can’t believe it. He’s warmer than I am now. _

“Why did you come?” he whispered.

She split the hug to stare at him. “Because we’re not going to die.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“There’s a woman in a cottage, southern from here,” she said. “Marisa is her name. She treats the ills.”

“And how many has she saved so far?”

“None of them”

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her lightly. “Then what are you telling me?”

“She’s alive, Alucard. She’s been taking care of them every single day until they die. And she’s alive.”

His expression softened and became indecipherable in the dark of that empty house. They held hands and Alucard pulled her to the bedroom where they had found the coin bag. From the same chest, he pulled more than a blanket, old rags for them to wrap up. Closing the window and the door, they sat on the mattress and Sypha lit up fire in her hands.  _ I’ve never been so thankful for a skill. _ She tried to take a deep breath and felt her inspiration to be shallow.  _ Oh, no. _ She put out the flame and began suffocating in the dark, gasping for air as her lungs did not obey her, one of her hands on her throat and with wide open eyes. As she finally coughed and could breathe again, she noticed that Alucard still held her other hand, caressing it with a thumb.

“Better?” he asked.

Sypha cleaned the corner of her eyes. “Better.”

“Thank goodness.” He sighed. “That’s a strange story, though. If you’re not sick because of that old man, what is it, then?”

“Marisa thinks we have something else. Trevor stayed with her, trying to find out what might it be.”

“Why didn’t he come?” He frowned. “I bet he’s in much better state than you are.”

“I volunteered to come. He wouldn’t be as fast.”

“But you can barely stand up.” He pressed her hand some more. “You should’ve stayed.”

“Aren’t you happy to see me?”

They stared at each other until Alucard lowered his head. “I don’t want you to do this anymore.”

“I shouldn’t have to if you hadn’t left,” Sypha rebutted. “Would you come back? Would you, if I hadn’t come now?”

“That’s no reason for this.”

“This what, Alucard?”

“I mean…” He stopped to look for the right words. “Putting the others before yourself like that.”

“That’s not what matters.”

“It does matter,” he raised his tone.

“No, it doesn’t,” she did the same, coughing a bit. “If you do that again, we’re not looking for you anymore.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m being practical. I don’t want to work with someone like that. Someone who won’t even be there when I need it.”

“You’ve got Trevor for that.”

_ It’s not like I don’t need you as well.  _ “And I want to have you the same way.”

They went quiet, staring at one another until they digested that sentence. With his remaining hand, Alucard touched her face, which was back to being warm and colorful. He grabbed her chin and bottom lip with his thumb. Sypha felt like freezing.

“I’m still impressed about how good with words you are,” he said.

Anything she could say died in her throat when they hugged tighter than before, pressing their foreheads.  _ Before we mess it up…  _

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t go away again.”

“I won’t.”

With her eyes closed, Sypha heard the sound of the storm that poured and poured and saw no end. Little by little, it was no longer daytime and they were in the dark, without any fire lit and the rain not as noisy on the roof. They let go of the hug still with hands on one another. Alucard was the first to search for a sound outside that dragged their attention. He got up and signed for her to stay; he went up to the window and opened it, checking the outside. 

With a hand gesture, he called Sypha and whispered, “Lights, please.”

Sypha approached with lit flames and shot them in the sky.  _ Something’s there. _

“What is that?” she asked.

She shot a stream of continuous fire, and they saw the creature more clearly.

“A moth!” Sypha quacked out of a jumpscare, retracting her hands and interrupting the fire. “It’s the size of this bedroom.”

“Alucard banged the window to close it and she jumped again.

Sypha crossed her arms. “Why that?”

“It’s venomous. One should not breathe the powder it releases from its wings. It causes an intoxication-”

“That’s it!” she exclaimed. “That’s what’s making people sick.”

Alucard opened his mouth to say something and gave up, looking at the floor.  _ Feeling guilty, huh? _ Sypha smirked.  _ Where have I seen it before? _ She shook her head and held his arm.

“What are we doing now?” she asked.

He got his face up. “Let’s wait for it to fly somewhere else. Then, take me to the woman you’ve met.”

~

The wind whistled in his ears. He held Sypha harder in his arms, with his hands slippery from the raindrops. After they left behind the two occupied villages, turning around them to avoid them, they entered a poor, steep trail.  _ Given that the road is deserted, no one’s here as well…  _ Alucard skipped and leaped, propelling himself faster in order not to walk on land. The storm beat them until his skin would hurt, and the dark of the night demanded attention. Flying high enough just to avoid the trees, Alucard shook his head to remove locks of drenched hair from his eyes.

“Are you sure this is the way?” he asked over the sound of a thunder.

“I am.”

Alucard accelerated and kept the high speed until he head her coughing. He braked his flight and landed on the roadside, beside a tree that seemed big enough to protect them a bit. He put Sypha on the ground, holding her by her shoulders. She made a desperate sound, trying to breathe with her mouth open and widened eyes. He held her tighter and felt himself shaking, strengthless. Looking around in search of a better shelter, he heard her gasping being interrupted.

“Let’s go.” He pulled her to help her on her feet.

Sypha fell to the ground like a ragdoll.

Alucard lit up a spark in the air and noticed her face with changed color, turning purple.  _ No, no, no. _ He grabbed onto her again and leaped in his highest speed to the end of the trail, looking at nothing else but its end. He landed near the doors of a cottage.  _ This might be it.  _ He knocked on the door twice.  _ Answer it! _ Without a reply, he pushed it, breaking the lock. Water invaded the room and he saw a middle-aged woman inside, holding a candle and a knife.

“What did you do to the Speaker?” she asked.

“Take care of her.”

The woman left the knife aside and got Sypha from his arms with some difficulty. Sypha began coughing like never before, grabbing onto the clothes of the other woman. As she finished coughing, a red powder left Sypha’s mouth and spread in the air. The woman pushed away her face with a clever smile.

“Crimson, huh?” She looked at the floor, where Alucard saw a sleeping figure.  _ Trevor?  _ “It seems pretty crimson to me.”

The unknown woman handed him Sypha, who could breathe again, and spread blankets on the floor, asking him to put her there. He laid her carefully.

“Are you the missing guy, young man?”

Alucard took a second to notice that the woman spoke to him. He opened his mouth to deny and ended up going quiet.

“You were lucky to come on time.” The woman put the back of her hand on Sypha’s neck. “You could’ve brought a corpse if you had taken longer. Now, I’m taking off these soaked clothes of hers. Look the other way.”

Alucard turned his back on them, sitting on the floor. He looked at any spot in the space, hearing the woman’s movement from a side to another in the house. She murmured something to Sypha and seemed satisfied with the answer. He set a hand on the floor and felt Sypha’s cold hand looking for his. He held it back.  _ Sleep now. _ Alucard held back a tear.  _ Because I won’t. _


	19. Hunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, folks, how's everyone? I promised I'd be back, I just didn't say when. Enjoy the read and shall these tough times become better.

Trevor blinked several times, with his eyes blurred, and tried to move his head. _ Dear Lord, how much just does my forehead weigh? _ He did not recall any dream as he peeked through the half-open window of that room, from where came light beams. _ What time might it be? _ He began to turn his body to accommodate himself better on the floor and only then he noticed something behind him, supporting itself on his back. Trevor finished his twisting and turning and hugged that something with a relieved smile. His throat somewhat itched, and he suffocated that need to cough in order not to wake her up.

Sypha had a noisy, choppy breath in his arms. He took a deep breath himself, smelling soap in her hair, and kissed the top of her head. _ Thanks to anything, you’re back. _ Madam’s house was silent and there was no trace of her in the living room. He stayed with Sypha as if they were the last ones in the world until his sleepiness was gone and his shoulder hurt against the floor. _ Wait, if Sypha’s here, then… _He supported himself on an arm to comprehend the world around him, bumping his head under the table. Trevor let out a curse through his teeth.

“Watch out, son.” The old man’s voice came from the top of the table. “I’m sore to the bone.”

Trevor sighed. “Everything fine up there?”

“As much as I can be.” The old man coughed. “What about down there?”

“Same, sir.”

Trevor, still supporting himself on his elbow and forearm, looked down to Sypha. She nestled in fetal position, covered with an old blanket that was up to her nose. He removed her bangs from her face with the tip of his fingers.

“The woman told me she would be in the vegetable garden,” the old man said. “In case you needed something, of course.”

Trevor got up at once and headed to the half-open door in a light step.

Outside, the clarity made him squint his eyes and protect them with the shadow of a hand, as well as from the drizzle drops. He turned around the cottage and saw Marisa rolling a big cabbage with a foot, from the gantry to its outskirts. She seemed to hear his approach.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Aching.” Trevor shrugged under his fur cloak, flinching against the cold breeze. “Also, I’d appreciate some sunlight today.”

“We’d all love this grace.” Marisa cleaned her hands full of dirt on her apron. “Come over here.”

Trevor stepped forward and she touched his neck, twisting her face with the result.

“You have a fever.” She pointed at the house. “Go inside.”

“Can I help you with the garden?”

“Go inside, I said.” She kneeled to harvest some carrots from the ground. “If you want something, be quick.”

“I wanna know what happened yesterday.”

Marisa threw the vegetables one by one in a basket, except for the bunch of carrots. She tied them like a bouquet, with a piece of fabric, and picked up the basket from the ground with ease, beginning to gesticulate with her free hand.

“It was raining like hell. I heard a knock on the door. When I thought of opening it…” The woman reproduced a banging sound, sided by the movement of an arm. “They arrived. My lock is broken for good. Haven’t you seen it?”

“‘They’ arrived?” Trevor frowned.

“Yes. A huge young man, as white as a candle, and the almost lifeless lady. She couldn’t breathe.”

_ Right, there’s someone who I need to scold. _ “So, he brought her.” 

“As much as it looks like.”

“And where has he gone now?”

“To the village, it was all he told me.” Marisa pushed him towards the cottage. “Now, go inside.”

Trevor coughed. _ Quick, I need a plan. _ He lifted a finger. “Actually, I’m not feeling quite well.”

“That’s why I’m telling you to go inside, blockhead.”

“No, you know… Can you get me a pair of leaves that won’t leave me itching?” Trevor tried to smile at his own joke. “It’s an emergency I’m the only one who can solve.”

“Sure.” Marisa left the basket on the ground. “Hold on a second. Don’t go around muddling my garden.”

She headed towards the woods, looking for some friendly bush. When she was gone from sight, Trevor turned his back on her and left to the ridged path.

**~**

“Horses, sir?”

The round-faced, soft-spoken woman answered the door less than five seconds after Alucard knocked three times on the wood. _ Now, for the speech. _

“No, ma’am.” He smiled gently at her. “I came here ordered by the gentleman that left a wagon with four horses yesterday. A dark-haired man with poorly cut hair and a scar on his face. Just a tad shorter than me. He had a lady by his side, a blue-eyed redhead, hood on her head, probably a book in her hand.”

“What have they told you to pick up?” she asked.

“Some things from the baggage.”

The woman frowned. “I don’t recall seeing you yesterday, sir.”

_ She isn’t exactly believing me. _ “Then, do as I say, ma’am: I’m telling you what they want and you’ll search the baggage for me. I know about every hay lint in the wagon.” He got a bunch of coins in his pockets and counted them over as he opened his hand. “Would this much be enough for the stay of our horses?” he asked with as much sympathy as he could. “They’ll perhaps take a while to be back. The path to Madam is pretty ridged.”

The woman received the coins in her hands and counted them precisely, with a contented face. “That’s the amount for two days, sir.”

He gestured for her to put them away. “Please, keep the change.”

The stable owner called him, and they passed by both empty and occupied stalls, as well as haystacks. In some of them, he recognized the horses lent by Katrina’s father in Ploiesti, petting one of the mares in her neck as the woman unlocked a door. It took them to the back, where the wagon was parked. She climbed upon it and Alucard told her to pick up Sypha’s book, his journal, the bag with dried food, and one of the flasks.

“Ma’am, if you allow me the intromission,” he called her, and she stopped collecting objects to stare at him. “Why do you carry that twig behind your ear?”

She tidied it in her hair better. “Oh, this. Madam says it scares away the plague. In times like these…”

“Any help is welcome, I see.”

_ Is it perhaps rosemary? _ He recalled the gigantic moth hovering over the empty village. The woman went back to rummaging through the baggage. _ I’ve read that insects aren’t fond of certain odors. A twig, though, would it scare away such a monstrosity? _ Alucard put a hand on his chin. _ It’s the plant back on Madam’s front garden. I saw it when I passed there this morning. A twig certainly won’t do. Now, maybe a lot of it… _

“I’m sorry if I don’t have much to tell, sir.” The woman handed him the last bag. “There’s not much going on here besides the plague.”

“And I can figure it’s not the best of subjects to talk about.”

“People died by the dozen in the towns North from here.” She sighed. “They didn’t even have where to bury them anymore.”

_ How do I get rid of a giant insect that I can’t spot? _ He put the grocery bag on his shoulder. _ It’s an animal, and someone must hunt them around here. _

“I know it might sound a bit unpurposed, but it’s been a while I’m in search of fresh game meat.” Alucard put a hand inside the pocket of his jacket. “Do you know where I could find it?”

“It’s a shame, sir.” The woman shook her head. “There’s a good archer, but he’s counting his days.”

“Is he an elder?”

“He’s got the plague.”

Alucard held back a curse.

She looked around before continuing, “I can tell you where he lives. Listen, though. He’s Madam’s brother. Don’t speak of one to the other, not even if they ask.”

He left the stable following the owner’s instructions and left the village to enter another muddy trail, a shorter, flatter one than the opposite path. In its end, there was an old house made of stone, one big enough for a family, with bindweed on its walls. Alucard knocked on the door. He thought he would never have an answer when strong coughing could be heard moving from a room to the other. A man opened the door to him, a middle-aged one with dark circles just like Marisa’s, a tired posture, thin cheeks, and a skinny neck poking out of a woolen shirt.

“Good day, sir.” The man had a hoarse voice. “What would you wish here?”

_ That you’d get better soon, first things first. _ “I’m looking for a man who can track and shoot a bow.” Alucard smiled a bit.

“You should’ve come a week ago.” The man opened the way and pointed towards his living room with an open hand. “Come in, don’t stay under this drizzle.”

As Alucard set foot inside, a big, fluffy figure in front of the fireplace dragged his attention. The dark dog lifted its ears and got up to smell the visitor. The owner, calling him Maximus, told him to stay, and the dog obeyed with piercing eyes to the newcomer. He followed the hunter and his trail of cough to a stove with dying flames.

The man lifted a mug “I can only serve you day-old tea, if you want some,” he said.

“I’d welcome it.”

Alucard peeked at the dog again. _ We could probably have some fun chasing one another on a friendlier day. _The other man, coughing, called him as “sir” and gestured for him to approach the stove.

“I’ll have you pour your own tea, as much as you’d like.” He gave Alucard the mug. “I’ll spill it if I insist.”

The man also gave him a wooden ladle and moved away from the pot. Alucard filled his mug and also the host’s. A sip of the tea left his mouth with a grassy taste. _ I’m not one to complain. _ The man also told him to sit and introduced himself as Andrei.

“It’s not one of the best drinks to serve you, but let’s see if it’ll make me live another day or two.” Andrei coughed. “Who sent you here?”

“The stable owner.”

“The widow.” He had a satisfied face and chugged the tea. “A good woman.” Suddenly, Andrei left his mug on the floor and entered a coughing fit that seemed endless, with a hand over his mouth and another one on his chest. Near the fireplace and his owner’s chair, the dog jumped, turning his head to look. As he could breathe again, the hunter went on. “Sorry. And why would you need the services of a… how did you put it? A man who can track and shoot a bow.”

“Let’s say that I’m a bounty hunter of sorts.” Alucard crossed his fingers on his lap, reclining on the chair.

“One of my kind.” Andrei picked up the mug again and lifted it. “Cheers.” They toasted, and the hunter had time to drink the tea once before coughing again. He let his hand fall to pet between the dog’s ears. “And how could I help you, then?”

“There’s some nice prey around the region,” Alucard said. “Two of them, actually.”

Andrei frowned. “Two?”

“Of the flying kind.”

“We could be tracking the same thing, then.” The hunter sighed and got up from the chair. “Check what Maximus found the other day.”

Andrei dragged himself to a corner with hunting trophies, from where he got a feather, an identical sample as the one on the roof of the stable many villages back.

“So, see this one.” Alucard pulled his journal from the baggage, and from the pages, he lifted the feather, much bigger than the book.

The hunter widened his eyes, a lifted eyebrow. “Do you know what this is?”

“A giant raven,” Alucard affirmed. “It’s not a common bird.”

“Giant raven,” Andrei repeated. “Is it one of the creatures the devil brought upon us?”

Alucard opened his mouth, thinking of confirming the suspicions, and chose to be evasive. “It’s a night creature.”

“Hmph.” Andrei let himself fall on the chair, coughing. “I’ve lost a dog to a toothful monster in the forest. Without him, I wouldn’t be here. He was old and moody, but he was mine.”

“My condolences.” Alucard sighed. “Have you seen the crow flying around here?”

“Now that you’re asking, yes, I’ve seen something flying above my head.” Andrei covered his mouth with a hand and coughed. “It was the dead of the night on a waning moon, though. If you’re telling me it was the raven, I’m buying it.”

“It wasn’t.” Alucard got his tea back. “It was our other prey. A venomous moth, also a giant one.”

“Huge game everywhere.” Andrei chuckled bitterly.

Alucard shrugged. “What can you do, huh?”

“Hunt them and eat them.” Andrei lifted his mug. “Since they die as well as we live.”

“Very well. There are people with which I need to talk to before we set any deal.” Alucard stood up and headed to the door. “Would it be too inopportune if I were to be back later?”

“Of course not. I guess I’ll be alive by then.” Andrei also got up and opened the door. “See you soon, my friend.”

Alucard thanked and left the house, back to the village using the trail. After climbing up and down the mild bumps that crossed the forest, the first houses began to appear. _ It’s not too different from all the other villages in Wallachia. _ The difference, however, was the movement: there was some traffic, even if just a little. People by their doorsteps, one sale or another. In the center, like in any of them, he would find a place to seek refuge even from the very little urban life.

The tavern was kept by a bald man, silent and with a mustache. Alucard paid him his last coin from the depths of his pocket in exchange for a beer and sat beside the window. As he grew tired of staring at the clay on the street, he picked up his journal and the quill. He also stared at them as if they were fruitless, as if the pages were sterile land. _ It’s easier when it’s about to come out, not when I have to squeeze my brain for some words. _

The door of the tavern opened to show a newcomer. Alucard felt his body tense up when Trevor passed by to the counter without looking around. _ Has he seen me? _ He dared to look over his shoulder to receive a stare back from Trevor, leaning against the counter to talk to the owner. _ It was all I ever needed. _ Trevor exchanged some incomprehensible muttering with the bald man, which he answered in the same tone, and left to the back of the place through a backdoor. Alucard frowned at the scene, dismissing it as soon as it happened. _ Maybe now I’ll write some lines. _ He put the quill onto paper.

_ “I’d like to talk about yesterday. Actually, I’d like to bury yesterday as deep as all the dead in the region. In order to do so, I need to speak. I’ll write, just in case. I can’t tell if, after what happened to me, I should be more hopeful or more hopeless. I only know that I know nothing, isn’t that the old saying? _

_ Of all the mistakes I could’ve made these last two days, I’ve made them all, except for the transgression that tempted me the most. I’m an idiot; no, I’m a coward. It’d be the last shovel of dirt in my grave, but I’d receive it with open arms and with a silly smile on my face.” _

“Who would tell.”

Alucard lifted his head all of a sudden, jumping a bit on his chair. Trevor’s voice came from outside, through the open window. He rested an arm on the railing, with his laid-back posture as always.

“What are you doing here?” Alucard asked, in a ruder tone than intended.

“What do you do in a tavern?” Trevor put a hand on his own chin. “I don’t have a penny to spare. Not with booze, for sure. I was in the kitchen boning a ham in exchange for one of these.” He pointed at Alucard’s beer.

“And where’s the mug?” Alucard said.

Trevor lifted his empty cup in his other hand, just so that the last drop would fall on the land. He turned around the place and entered through the door, sitting by the table with a tired sigh and a brief coughing fit.

“I’m feeling terrible,” Trevor said.

_ Also, sounding strangely friendly. _ “Why did you come here?”

“Because Madam wouldn’t let me drink her wine. Honestly, the house chokes me as well.”

_ I also ask myself how did you get her to let you leave, but the less I know, the better. _ Alucard took a sip of the beer and closed his journal. _ How’s Sypha?, _ he thought.

“She’s better,” Trevor said, looking out the window.

_ Don’t read my thoughts. _ “That’s good.” _ And I think we don’t want to talk about it. _

“Are you drinking that?” Trevor pointed at the mug.

“No, I think.”

Trevor grabbed the mug and chugged its content at once. With some impact, he left it on the table and looked around, inspecting the surroundings with suspicions in his eyes. 

“Listen,” Trevor began, in a threatening whisper that contrasted how affable he seemed before, “right now, I want to kick you with all the strength in my body.”

“Do I really need to know?”

“You do. Sypha only left yesterday because of you. Her place was in a warm bed with a doctor by her side, not under a downpour because you decided to jump ship when--”

“I didn’t know the illness wasn’t contagious,” Alucard interrupted.

“We didn’t, either. Have you seen any of us running away? Blaming one another? No, because you weren’t there, not even to see it. So, if anything, the _ slightest _ thing you do gives even a _ hint _ that you’re making a scene again, I won’t move a muscle. I’ll let you go to fucking Hell if you need it, I’ll make sure to stop Sypha, and if your shenanigans put her on the line again, I won’t--”

“I didn’t put her on the line.” Alucard pronounced each word carefully as Trevor got quiet and clenched his fist on the table. “I was as worried as you were. She was on the edge of death when--”

“Spare me. She wouldn’t be on the edge of death if she hadn’t gone after a spoiled brat that doesn’t know how to do basic teamwork. And that’s why I’d love to kick you.”

Trevor began to cough until he ended up spitting some blood on his hand. He cleaned it on his pants and looked menacingly at Alucard again.

“That didn’t end well last time,” Alucard warned.

“It won’t end well again if you keep on getting on my nerves. Swallow it, you’re wrong, and accept your damn last chance.”

They both were at a loss of words as Alucard lowered his head, staring at the table. The scolding, stuck in his throat like a thorn, would not leave, not even with a thousand beers. _ Reprehended like a mischievous little boy. Pathetic. _

“I promised Sypha I wouldn’t do it anymore,” Alucard muttered.

“She’s not the only one that matters.”

Alucard sighed and murmured a weak “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t expect me to throw a party over it. It’s nothing but what you’re supposed to do.” Trevor stood up. “I’ll chase another beer.”

As he waited for Trevor to make a deal with the owner, he picked up the journal again and had no courage to write a single line in it. _ I can be read and very misinterpreted… and he’d be right. _ Soon, Trevor was back to the table and gestured with his head for them to leave. 

Alucard stood up and headed outside. “Do you have a plan?” he asked.

“It depends.” Trevor looked at the quiet street, walking with both hands in his pockets. “Be more specific.”

“I do have a plan.”

“Now, be direct.” Trevor coughed.

“Our problem is nothing but a moth.”

“Why would a moth be a problem?” Trevor frowned. “We just need to kill it.”

“Yes, we do.” Alucard began to count on his fingers. “It’s a bit more complicated when, one: its wingspan is as large as the size of a horse; two, you don’t know where it is; and three, when it is the thing to release the venom that’s killing the people.”

“How do you know that?”

“I and Sypha saw it back in the other village.”

“Hmm.” Trevor seemed to ponder. “The old man really said he heard some flapping wings above his head.”

“Which could be the raven, whose feather we found back there on the road.”

“Or it could be something else.” Trevor shrugged.

“Where are we going, if you allow me the question?”

Alucard stopped walking and Trevor copied him. They looked around, seeing a bunch of not very wealthy houses, as if they were piled upon one another in poor floors. The deserted street had nothing other than a dog that crossed it.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Trevor said.

“I know, then.” A hint of a smile appeared on Alucard’s face. “Please, follow me.”

**~**

Sypha woke up with her throat itching like hell, but a well rested body. The strong coughing coming from above the table helped her back to reality, leaving her senseless dream. She supported herself on the floor to stand up and the woman in the cottage left the chair where she sat to put Sypha on her feet.

“How are you?” the healer asked, in a tone that was more professional than cordial.

“Better, I guess.”

The woman chuckled somberly. “Well, you don’t look like you’re dying anymore. Do you have any idea where your friends have gone?”

_ They’re not here? _ “When did they leave?” Sypha asked.

“When you weren’t seeing, of course. One of them, the one that broke my door lock, is as healthy as a horse, so I didn’t bat an eye. The other one ran away right under my nose.”

_ Trevor… _ Sypha felt her heart aching. _ I don’t have the right to say a word about what he did, though. “Healthy as a horse” can only be Alucard. Now… _ Sypha coughed briefly. “And how are things going? I’ve lost a lot of what went on, I guess.”

“Not looking exciting.” The woman sighed as she turned to pull a chair, so that Sypha sat around the table with her. “Sick people don’t stand up in this house.”

“Thank you.” Sypha suited herself on the chair and looked over her shoulder to the old man, who slept on the table with his chest up. “I know something that could help. Perhaps Alucard has told you about what we’ve seen in the villages North from here.”

“What kind of name is Alucard?” The woman frowned.

Sypha laughed. “It’s all part of that one long story. I can tell you later.”

“Whatever. Your boy Alucard hasn’t told me a thing, so tell me yourself.”

With almost renewed breath, Sypha reported to the unknown woman as much as she could about the moth she had seen under her flames: its brown shades, its huge wings and the dust it released as it flapped them.   
The woman heard everything with a hand on her chin and an amused face. “So, do you think the two guys might be chasing that thing?” 

“It’s pretty likely.” Sypha shrugged. “You can’t hold Trevor back, not even if you tie him up.”

“Speaking from experience?” The woman giggled and stood up, headed to the bookshelf. “Well, shall they do their best job. I’m not standing up here, watching the time go by.”

Sypha hinted at standing up, but the other one stopped her with a hand gesture. The woman began searching volume after volume in the bookshelf until she settled for a titleless one, smaller than the rest and bound roughly, with thick sewing made of rope on the spine.

“What is it about?” Sypha inquired.

“Bugs,” the woman replied without taking her eyes off of the open book. “They usually have venomous stings and pincers that leave you itching, not dust-releasing wings, but there might be something here to jog my memory.” 

Pages were flipped for a while until the healer began reciting, seeming like she pulled most of it from her memory than from the pages. “Here. The majority of the problems with moths and butterflies happens when you interact with larvae, not with the mature insect. They are capable of skin burns and some species can kill even an adult. ‘In case one comes in touch with a burning caterpillar, the wound must be thoroughly washed and a cold compress must be applied. The exception, however…”

The woman showed her the book so that Sypha could see the illustration. _ It looks a lot like that one. _ The shape of the wings, the line that crossed all the wingspan, the texture that reminded her of a withered leaf. Sypha, with a shiver down her spine, finished reading. “‘…is Lonomia, whose interaction with humankind is fatal and irreversible due to the potency of the poison.’”

“Can you reassure me that this is what you’ve seen back in the other village?” the woman asked, and Sypha murmured a weak “yes”. “So, there’s nothing that I can do. The moth is killed, new victims are avoided, and the ones that die, die anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a lot for reading. I hope to see you soon.


End file.
